


Scarjaw

by backwards_wordsmith



Series: Amadeus [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Berserker - Freeform, Children of Characters, Crew as Family, Depression, Disguise, Dog - Freeform, Exodar, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Friend, Father Figure, Gen, Healers, Kalimdor, King - Freeform, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Naaru - Freeform, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Parental Instinct, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Priest, Priest and the Warrior, Psychological Trauma, Queen - Freeform, Royal Children, Royalty, Stormwind, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Warrior - Freeform, dragon - Freeform, royal guard, uncle Wrathion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 73
Words: 198,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwards_wordsmith/pseuds/backwards_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kings are not meant to rule for a lifetime. The crown is a heavy burden. It takes a strong set of shoulders, but also a strong heart, and faith in those you trust.  Some say that you can trust no one while wearing the crown, and perhaps that was how it was, long ago.  It’s time, Anduin thinks, to bring about great change. To create a new Court. A new Stormwind.</p><p>It’s time for a new generation to carry the crown. It’s time for the old generation to rest.</p><p>The third installment of the story of Luciana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Effectively Distracting

**Author's Note:**

> And so we do not begin, but rather continue the story of Luciana. She has many names - Amadeus. Oathkeeper. Scarjaw. And soon enough, Queen.
> 
> (If you were wondering what Wrathion was up to during Legion, this might provide an explanation! Events are referenced in the story that are not explicitly covered.)

Being a Prince was difficult, sometimes. There were expectations, heavy on shoulders not meant to carry such weight. Too heavy, at times. Anduin knew that if it weren’t for the warrior he’d been partnered with, the weight would be too much to bear.

Luciana was impossibly strong, forged like a Fel Reaver, a back like mithril and hands like blackrock. She had no trouble carrying heavy burdens, but at night she’d want to lay them down a while and rest. Anduin couldn’t always carry the burden, so she carried it for him. He could make a safe place for her to lay it down. He could soothe the perpetual ache from her shoulders and lighten the burden with the Light. His Light. Her light, she’d call him.

Being a Prince was difficult, but Anduin had been doing the impossible his entire life. Difficult was nothing. Especially with Luciana at his back, watching over him. If something ever went terribly, horribly wrong, he knew she’d be there. He hoped she knew he’d do the same for her. That if something happened, he would watch over her, too. He was not a warrior, could not break steel with idle fingers like she could, but he had a strength of his own. His command over the Light was certainly nothing to laugh at. He could break minds as easily as she broke bones, forge shields of pure light that could deflect the harshest of attacks, save dozens of lives.

The worst part of being a Prince was the late nights, Anduin thought. He rarely had a full night’s sleep nowadays, busy as he was picking up the slack his Father left. Varian was old, tired, and the burden of Kingship weighed him down. Anduin thought that without that burden, Varian would jump right back up like a compressed spring. Luciana said they’d each get used to their building power, in time. 

In time. It made Anduin laugh. She was already used to power. She was a Knight Captain, before. She was in command, in control. She could have power over an entire room full of nobles simply with her gaze, with the edge of steel in her eyes and the flat line of her mouth interrupted only by the scars that had once mangled her jaw.

Anduin shook the thoughts of his wife from his head. Now was not the time to get distracted. Thinking of her always ended in distraction. His train of thought would slip from steely eyes, to displeased flat mouth, to the scars that kept it from curving into a frown, to the thick neck and broad shoulder corded with muscle he could trace with his fingers, to the scars on her back that rippled like silk over pebbles when she moved...

Anduin was almost glad for the commotion in the Petitioner’s Chamber, which he could hear easily even all the way up in the throne room. It was a welcome distraction that would distract him from the distraction of his thoughts on his wife’s distractingly powerful body. An aggravatingly twisted and repetitive strain of thoughts, to be sure, but Luciana could be very distracting. Everyone knew it.

Even the servants knew it. Her face was stiff most days from scar tissue but she could still make some rather devious expressions. Sometimes, if the weather was just right, humid enough and warm enough to ease the aching, ever present tension from her flesh, it would cooperate anyway. Even if it didn’t, she could curve her lips just so, stretch the skin and mould her eyes into a flirtatious smirk that spoke of base hunger, dark want. It lit a fire in Anduin’s gut every time she used it. He knew she sometimes used it to tame the more rebellious nobles and didn’t begrudge her that, though it didn’t always please him to see them giving her eyes.

He reached the Petitioner’s Chamber shortly, brushing long hair away from his face. He’d grown it out and Luciana had taken to tugging at the end of his ponytail when he wasn’t paying attention to her while she spoke. The guards welcomed him with bowed heads and whatever citizens of Stormwind were inside that weren’t currently yelling at each other, or at the Seneschal, saw him and bowed hurriedly . They parted like water to let him pass.

“I heard fighting from the throne room,” he said calmly, throwing his voice and effectively ending the conflict in the center of the room. “What seems to be the issue?”

“This whore-lover...!” The citizen, dressed relatively well, stopped short and cleared his throat. “My apologies, Your Highness,” he said, calmer now. “I should not speak to you in such a manner. This man stole three of my wife’s best jewelleries from her bedroom while we were out for dinner and...”

“That’s a lie,” the other man growled. He was obviously poorer than the first, but built thicker and tanned like a farmer. Anduin had a flash of thought as he listened to the man – _It’s a good thing they came here instead of brawling in the street. The farmer would have to have been arrested for murder._ “I didn’t steal nothing, Yer Highness. I don’t need to steal. I got an honest living, workin’ my family’s farm like my dad and his before him. We don’t steal in our family.”

“Obviously you do!” the richer man growled. “You were seen taking things from my wife’s bedroom!”

“By who?” the farmer demanded, getting up in the man’s face again. “You paid someone to say that, I reckon!”

“Enough,” Anduin said, holding his hands as though to push the men apart. He didn’t touch them, but they separated as though by his will alone. “What are your names?”

“Ballard, Yer Highness,” the farmer said. “Ben Ballard.”

“James Defranc,” the other man said, readjusting his coat collar stiffly.

“Ben, James,” Anduin said. “You’re here to settle this dispute, yes? Then allow it to be settled,” he said firmly. “Seneschal William is here to find you a mediator who can do such. Let him do his job, and this will be solved. James Defranc, if your wife’s belongings have not simply gone missing and have indeed been stolen, it should be reported to the City Guard. They will investigate according to common procedure, which has yet to fail too gravely. Ben,” he said, turning to the farmer. “Do you and James know each other?”

“No, Yer Highness.”

“Does he have reason to suspect you, aside from circumstantial evidence or word of mouth?”

“Of course not, Yer Highness!”

“Then please, gentlemen, allow the Seneschal appoint you a mediator, as he would anyone else who comes to the Petitioner’s Chamber to look for a solution to a dispute. I’m sure you can discuss this civilly, as two proud citizens of Stormwind. James, have you reported this to the City Guard?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good. Let them do their job, and do not accuse anyone else of theft until reasonable suspicion is proved by our skilled investigators.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

With the fight ended before it could come to fists, the other people in the Petitioner’s Chamber calmed as well. The guards mostly dispersed back to their previous posts, being unneeded now that their Prince had expertly diffused the situation. 

Anduin left the chamber before anyone could catch him. He usually got caught up in it, anyway. He had things to worry about that only a member of the Royal House could resolve, but he wanted to help people. He wanted to see their problems solved, and he knew that sometimes going through the Petitioner’s Chamber was a long and involved process that not everyone had the patience or the time for. With so many people coming in every day, it was sometimes the only thing they could do to keep things moving at all.

It was quieter in the courtyard in the afternoon and he made his way there. He’d been taking a break from his work when he’d been pulled to the throne room to discuss possible drapery changes. The decorative drapes were purple at the moment, his father’s colour and traditionally the colour of the House of Wrynn. Anduin thought it was time to change the drapery in the throne room to represent more than the Royal House - after all, the Alliance had grown to encompass much more than a few old Houses. Though, Luciana liked the purple. Perhaps he could simply... add colours? It was time, he thought, to show as much in the throne room of the High King of the Alliance. 

Which, as his Father liked to remind him, he would be one day soon. It was a frightening thought. He didn’t feel ready. He still felt, sometimes, like he was sixteen, afraid and alone. He was twenty-six now, and he was still afraid but he wasn’t alone anymore. He knew that as long as he stayed by her side, Luciana would stay by his. Perhaps even if he abandoned her.

The thought that she could be so blindly loyal shook him, as it always did. He felt a sudden chill from the wind coming in through the open walls of the courtyard, and thought once again of Luciana, whose warrior’s body was always hotter than a lit hearth, whose palms burned against his skin and lit him up like a firework with such ease.

He hurried out of the courtyard, wishing he’d thought to bring a coat along. Autumn nights in Stormwind could get quite cold in the shadows of the mountains. The wind coming from the sea would catch on their snowy peaks, pick up the cold and fall back down on Stormwind’s proud spires. When the sun was out, it was tolerable, but during the night it was easy to freeze. Despite the warmth and temperate nature of Elwynn’s forests, or perhaps because of it, the city’s cold winds always surprised newcomers.

Luciana was likely still in the War Room, collaborating with representatives sent from Westfall’s newly minted Shadow Watchers, the militia set up under Helliah Shadowstep’s experienced command. The rogue was known for her complete domination of Azeroth’s underground, even the Horde side. When she’d expressed interest enough in Westfall to threaten to take it from under them, albeit mildly worded, Luciana had suggested giving it to her as a province of the kingdom. 

Helliah had agreed to act as a prime minister, following the common law of the kingdom and reporting to the Royal House. She’d also agreed to keep Westfall business out of her Shadow business, and vice-versa. Varian, with good reason, found it suspicious that she’d acquiesced - but Luciana reasoned that Helliah found it was easier to cooperate with the Royal House than to fight against it.

Varian’s daughter in law. _Anduin’s wife_. The thought still boggled his mind. He had a wife. He had three children. For Light’s sake, he had a kingdom. He was barely in his mid twenties and he had so much, so many people to look after. It made him giddy to think about it. His wife. His _wife_. Such an amazing woman, skilled in so many things, powerful and immovable and so full of love that she couldn’t even express it, was his. She’d let him... She’d let him impregnate her, had birthed his children, his sons and then his daughter. 

Giddy wasn’t a word strong enough to describe it. It left him with a delirious, restless, deliciously feverish mess in his chest, in his gut, whenever he thought about it. He couldn’t think about it for long, anyway. It made him dizzy to think about it. About how she’d waited, deliberately kept her body weak, denied herself her own strength, denied who she was at her very core in order to have his children. To make a family.

She’d used her body like a tool for him, more than fighting used her body, more than sex used it. Let him spark changes in it, let him start a process nearly a year long, let him take away her autonomy that she so treasured, so that she could birth a child for him. She’d willingly birthed twins for him. And then a third child, a dangerous and difficult one that had nearly ended in disaster. She’d given herself up to him. Anduin sometimes felt she’d never taken herself back, not fully. He liked to think that it was because she was satisfied with the care he was giving her while she was in his possession. 

He had to shake himself out of a mild stupor when he reached their chambers. The work he’d left behind, drafts of common laws for Westfall and criteria for positions of political power in its swiftly renewing towns and economy, was left scattered on his desk. It didn’t appeal to him now, though he knew it was important to avoid power vacuums. He’d been distracted by the conversation about the throne room’s heraldic drapery, then he’d been distracted by thoughts of Luciana, and then he’d been distracted again by the ruckus in the Petitioner’s Chamber and then again by Luciana.

Luciana, he’d discovered over the years they’d been married and even in the years before that, was very distracting. She had no shame when it came to her body, seeing is as merely a tool to be used, broken, and remade and used again by her, and had no problem walking around the Keep half-naked. She’d often spar shirtless, and her skin, naturally pale but tanned dark like an animal’s hide by her long hours in the sun, would gleam with sweat. It would pull taut over her muscles, her shoulders rolling, her back tightening in a way that reminded Anduin of when she rolled her hips forward to fuck him, to fuck herself on him. She’d snarl, or growl low in her throat, the same sort of animalistic noise she’d make when Anduin teased her by pulling away in the bedroom. It would send heat straight to his crotch and he’d have to sit down lest he embarrass himself.

She knew she had no shame and she often used it to tease or embarrass Anduin. She liked to see his ears redden, and he knew it, and she knew he knew it. She teased him mercilessly sometimes, talking about sexual things so easily, so _casually_. Anduin liked to think about her just as much as she liked to think about him, if her descriptions of the lewd things she’d like to do to him was any indication. He just didn’t verbalize it. He’d wondered aloud, once, about her shamelessness. She’d shrugged and told him she didn’t find any reason to be ashamed of the ways she used her body, which was merely a tool - either to bring pain, or pleasure. Anduin had to admit that she was really good at bringing pleasure.

Anduin chewed on his lip while he flipped through the more sensitive documents on his desk. He should pile them up, hide them in the locked drawers in his desk, but his thoughts had taken a rather inappropriate turn somewhere along the line and he felt hot, his clothes constricting. Luciana was still busy, he knew, in the meeting about Westfall’s militia. She might like it if he was ready for her when she came back to the bedroom.

He thought about which room to use. The bedroom, which had once been only for Luciana but was now changed to make room for two people to live comfortably? Their joint work room, once Anduin’s bedroom, which had been retrofitted to give them a mutual space to work in tandem? One of the spare offices? The writing room? One of the baths? The snoring room, a tighter space but cozier, where the smell of sex and sweat could linger thicker in the air and where they would be uninterrupted and unheard by the world outside?

Or perhaps he was in the mood to try something a bit more daring, like one of the balconies...? Anduin moved to look out of the double glass doors. The stone half-wall was just high enough to hide them, if they stayed low. He could set up one of the chaises with cushions and a blanket, so they wouldn’t get chilled. They wouldn’t need it after a while. Luciana’s body was hot, hotter than normal, because it always ran all systems at high levels to keep her ready for a fight. She would keep him warm, just like she did at night.

Thinking about taking her on the balcony, on seeing her spread out before him, settling his hips between her thighs thick like tree trunks, dark hands contrasting against her pale skin and slipping himself so easily into her slick heat, having her wrap around him as he rutted against her, moaning and grasping and pleading...

It was making Anduin rather uncomfortable in his clothes. His leggings, especially. He considered kicking off his boots, lounging on the couch, opening himself for her, waiting for her to return. She’d be quite happy to see him like that after a long, hard day, dealing with nobles. Or he could simply pull the leggings down, tease himself with thoughts of her. He’d think about how they would fuck on the chaise outside. 

They’d start needy, wanting, after spending a long day without even seeing the other. Luciana would spend a bit of her energy - always she had so much of it, she was never still, she always had to be moving, doing things, being physical. She had so much heat and fire to use or it would consume her, make her dark and needing, and that held its own appeal, seeing her so desperate, nearly crazed with want for him, for _him_...

She’d spend herself, he’d help her, and then they’d relax, go slower, loving, soft like he knew she liked, loved so much she’d kneel at his feet. She’d let him chain her hands behind her back and put a gag in her mouth and a collar around her neck and she’d look up to him with those damned eyes, so expressive, too expressive almost. She was so trusting, open, soft, just for him, that sometimes it was all he could do to move, to brush her shaggy dark hair away from her face, smile and promise pleasure however she wanted it, however he could give it.

Anduin groaned a mild complaint to himself and leaned his hip against the desk, trying to shift his hardening cock without actually touching it, and contemplated his options. He always did this, always made himself suffer while Luciana was preoccupied elsewhere. He couldn’t help it, though. She was a nice thing to think about. When she was on her stomach, her scarred back to him, wrists chained to the headboard, she’d bow and buckle under his hands. Her muscles would work, she’d sweat and mewl for him, beg and plead sweetly, beg him to touch her, please, fill her up, fill her needs.

Luciana was powerful. Her body was powerful. She could raze Stormwind City to the ground with her fury and no one could stop her, perhaps not even Varian, perhaps not even Damran the Red. And when she surrendered to him, her power was his to bend. It was a heady, addictive thing to have her under him, to have the hands that broken steel and the shoulders that lifted mountains be weak to him despite the power and absolute, unforgiving fury forged into her limbs.

Anduin could feel his pulse now, and a tight, tingling heat in his stomach he was all too familiar with. His cheeks and shoulders and chest always turned red when he was aroused, and Luciana liked to tease him about it. He knew they were red now because his face felt hot.

He would, he decided, prepare the balcony. They’d lately been very... vanilla, as Jillian would describe, when having sex. Luciana would certainly enjoy changing it up a bit, and she’d always had a bit of a voyeuristic streak. She liked to have sex where they could be walked in on. Not caught. Luciana didn’t think of it as getting caught, because she didn’t think there was anything to get caught doing. But they’d been walked in on before. 

Last time that had happened, Lawrence had popped his head into the bedroom just as Luciana was about to come. She’d been on her stomach, ass in the air, with Anduin bent over her, and Anduin had felt absolutely embarrassed but she’d told Lawrence to come back later and then had promptly came around Anduin’s dick. Which had felt good, to be sure, but the sight of Lawrence’s slack-jawed, wide-eyed and red-faced expression had kind of ruined it. At least Luciana had enjoyed herself, and she’d laughed about it uproariously afterward. Lawrence had then taken the time to remind everyone to make sure they weren’t walking in on her having sex. 

Not because it was bad to look at, mind, but because she wouldn’t stop just because someone uninvolved had walked in. Maybe she’d stop if Varian walked in. Maybe not. Maybe Varian would just turn around and walk out again. Anduin didn’t think they’d ever find out. Varian always seemed to know when they were having sex and avoided them expertly.  
The balcony, Anduin reminded himself, and ignored the suddenly very uncomfortable tightness of his leggings and the growing sensitivity of his cock. That would come later. Luciana found quite a lot of enjoyment in seeing him ready and waiting for her. He had no problem in giving her that, despite the discomfort. She always found a way to make up for it. To more than make up for it.

He was checking the sturdiness of the chaise - would it stand up the rough, wanting sex he knew was coming? He hoped so - when the noise of flapping wings reached his ears. It wasn’t a gryphon rider, taking an extra trip around the back of the Keep. It didn’t sound like feathered wings. It sounded more like a bat, but no Horde fliers could reach this far into the city. And no one could fly through the gales constantly swirling around the cold mountains peaks whose spines faced the castle.

A dragon. Either a hero, mounted on a great drake whose partnership they’d earned, or an enemy. Anduin whirled around, casting a Power Word to shield himself, only to come face to face with a black drake whose horns and proud fins seemed all too familiar.

“Wrathion,” Anduin breathed, the shield flickering. “What in fel are you doing here?”


	2. Wrath

Wrathion grinned like a shark, showing off his pointed teeth. Smoke curled out theatrically from between them.

“I thought I’d come for a visit,” the black whelp said - no, he was a fully grown drake now, had likely been for at least two or three years. His paws found purchase on the stones of the balcony and he tucked his wings in close. They shivered once, like he’d felt something unpleasant. “It’s awfully cold in Stormwind. How do you live here?”

“What are you doing here?” Anduin repeated, renewing his Shield. Wrathion had never truly been his enemy, and he’d once been a sort of friend, but one could never truly know a black dragon. And Wrathion had only proven to be as conniving and untrustworthy as his dead kin, if only marginally more inclined to use bribery instead of mind control. “You know you’re wanted still as an enemy of the Alliance.”

“What will you do then, Prince?” Wrathion asked, too casual for Anduin’s liking. “Strike me down with the Light? Smite me from this lovely balcony, and... Are you ill?” he asked suddenly, slit orange eyes staring at Anduin with too much intelligence.

“What?” Anduin asked, caught off-guard. “No, why?”

“Your cheeks are quite ruddy,” Wrathion said, taking a few slow steps forward to poke his serpentine head right into Anduin’s personal space. He also hit Anduin’s Shield. It burned the drake’s nose and he snarled, pulling away sharply. “Was that completely necessary?” he hissed, using a great clawed paw to rub his delicately scaled nose.

“Is it necessary to be here like this?” Anduin retorted. “You shouldn’t be here. At all.”

“You should be calling for guards, then,” Wrathion said. “But you haven’t yet.”  
Anduin hesitated. “I thought we were friends once,” he said. “I’m willing to let you go, if you leave now. But you can’t stay.”

“Why ever not?” Wrathion asked, finally shifting to his humanoid guise with a puff of acrid magical smoke. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a black dragon working for the Alliance? Using his intelligence and... unique powers?” His voice was mocking, his smile tilted with bitterness, and it put Anduin on guard.

“You need to leave, Wrathion. I don’t want to smite you. It could really hurt you. But I will if you push me.” He kept talking, kept telling the dragon to leave - Wrathion would, no doubt, eventually get to the real reason he was here. All Anduin had to do was wait.

“I wouldn’t dare push you, dear Prince! Why, you’d never survive the fall!”

A feeling of cold dread came over Anduin suddenly. Goosebumps rose along his skin and he felt his scalp tighten and tingle, the hair standing - or trying to stand, it was too long now - on end. It was the same sensation he felt when magic crackled in the air, but the feeling of abstract terror was nothing he’d ever felt from magic before.

“Luciana,” he murmured, turning his head. She was standing just inside the bedroom, hand on the pommel of her sword, Oathkeeper. Her eyes were flat, dark. Angry. Anduin had seen her angry, he’d seen her when she released her fury to fight, to spar. But he’d never seen her like this. This was not her fury, used to fight with her squad mates. It was not the fury she used to tame nobles and criminals put under scrutiny. 

This was something dangerous, something wild and rabid and _too much too fast_ that would destroy everything in its vicinity. Her eyes were not grey anymore. They glinted yellow, molten gold like the eyes of a wolf. Anduin recognized that gleam. “Luciana, wait,” he said, hurrying to hold up a hand to stall her. She hadn’t moved, but he could feel her fury. He could _feel_ her fury, the threat of it, roil in the air around him like magma. Her eyes, he saw, were locked on Wrathion.

“So we’re joined by the famed warrior-princess of Stormwind,” Wrathion said smoothly, mockingly, sashaying into view. Anduin didn’t know what game he was trying to play, but he obviously wasn’t aware of the danger Luciana presented. Or maybe he was, and was trying to push her through it. Anduin didn’t know how he couldn’t be aware of it – or perhaps Wrathion was somehow planning to use it to his advantage, and was willingly ignoring it. Anduin hoped he wouldn’t die for his mistake. “It’s an _honour_ to...”

He was interrupted when Luciana flashed forward, silent in her fury, not even snarling. Anduin had the feeling of _too much too fast_ again and his Light burned in him, warning him. A half-second later Wrathion was on the balcony’s floor, struggling, kicking, his neck caught under her hand. Her weight was pressing down on him, immovable, unforgiving, and Anduin rushed after her the moment he’d registered that she’d moved.

“Luciana!” he said firmly. “Stop.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. She was angry. Beyond angry. Wrathion had invaded her home, posed a threat to her husband. To say she was not happy was an understatement. “He is an enemy of the Alliance,” she said slowly, her voice deeper and darker than usual. Her fury coloured it like it did everything else about her. Anduin’s Light grew hot again, reverberating with her voice, with the threat of violence that ground out under her words.

“Luciana,” Anduin soothed, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Wrathion’s struggles had diminished - Luciana was strangling him without any apparent effort, despite the draconic strength Anduin knew he had even in his mortal guise. But fer could make weak the brave. And, evidently, the proud. Her eyes were still yellow, full of rabid fury, and Anduin concentrated on her.

Slowly, with her dark and unmoving gaze focused on Anduin’s face, she lessened the pressure around Wrathion’s neck. Anduin heard the air whistle in his throat as he was allowed to breathe a bit at a time. When Luciana’s hand was loose, Wrathion slipped out from under her, coughing, to stagger to his feet and brace against the handrail.

Anduin knew the dragon would be indignant, burning with shame and anger. He didn’t like to be the one not in control, but it was impossible to be in control around Luciana. She dominated everything, everyone, sometimes without even meaning to. But she’d released Wrathion at Anduin’s insistence. It comforted him to know that she would listen to him always, even in the midst of such a dark fury.

“You are a savage woman, Princess,” Wrathion said, his voice like dry, dusty gravel. “I would expect no less from a berserker.”

“You should watch your tongue, lest I bite it out of your mouth,” she said lowly, a warning, as she looked over to him. She was still on one knee, Anduin’s hand moving to her back to rub it up and down, slowly, to ease her anger. “You are in my land, dragon. You are my enemy. The Prince’s mercy spared you for the moment. That won’t last long. Leave now, before I change my mind.”

“So very forceful,” Wrathion said, and Anduin knew if given only a few moments to talk he’d be able to slip out of the situation, somehow turn it in his favour. Luciana knew it too and she was having none of it. She was on her feet in a half-second, stalked over to Wrathion and had his neck in her grasp in another. “Wait!” Wrathion said. Anduin could tell that now the dragon was unable to ignore the threat. It radiated from Luciana in waves, crashing against everyone around her like a stormy sea. Anduin felt thrown by the sudden change in atmosphere. Less than a minute ago he’d been aroused by the mere thought of her, ready and wanting. Now he was... he was afraid of her.

“Luciana,” Anduin said, getting to his feet. He didn’t want to be afraid of her. He’d prove to himself that there was no reason to be. He’d prompt her, and she would be gentle with him even in her roiling fury that screamed for blood, screamed for her to break things, break people, break everything. He knew her. She knew him. She wouldn’t hurt him, he told himself as he approached her, laid a hand on her forearm. “Let him talk.”

Her eyes turned on him again, and she searched his face. “He’s a black dragon,” she said. Her voice was low. It rumbled like thunder on the horizon; a warning. “He can’t be trusted.”

“At least she knows that much,” Wrathion said, and inhaled sharply when her hand tightened threateningly around his neck for a moment. Wrathion was strong, Anduin knew, even without his magic added into the equation. But it was difficult to do anything but cower when Luciana was angry, especially to this level. A warrior could make anyone afraid, especially one who had the eyes of the Ghost Wolf.

“Lucy,” Anduin murmured, touching her scarred jaw with fingers that trembled under the dark, leaden weight of her gaze. “Trust me. Let him talk. Let’s find out why he came here, at least. He can’t do anything to me with you here, anyway.”

That was it, then. That was the reason she was so angry. The twitch of her eyelids, while not a blink, gave it away. Anduin smiled encouragingly, glanced away from her face for only a moment to put his hand on the one that held Wrathion’s neck in a vice-like grip. “Let him go,” Anduin said, meeting her eyes again, and the tautness of her hand eased under his fingers. She let him smooth it away, gaze always even with his. When her hand was loose Anduin took it away from Wrathion’s dark skin and when he brought it up to lay against the side of his neck, Luciana seemed to deflate ever so slightly. The darkness in her eyes eased, an inch at a time, but even a mile could be walked with patience and a steady pace.

Wrathion remained silent, as Luciana’s wide body was still caging him against the handrail. Anduin glanced over, gave him a look of warning, and returned his attention to Luciana. He didn’t need the Light to soothe her anger, he told himself as the wild yellow light faded from her eyes. She trusted him, he realized. She trusted him to know right from wrong and make the right decision, and he trusted her to listen, to hear him and to not hurt him. When her eyes were grey again, still glinting like daggers, still dangerous, but less a berserker about to snap and more the tactician that he knew she was even under her fury, he smiled.

“Talk, dragon,” Luciana said, _growled_ , and while it was completely inappropriate to do so Anduin’s breath hitched in his throat. He _liked_ when her voice did that. He only hoped Wrathion didn’t notice. “No games. No wordplay. Speak plainly and I won’t bite your throat out.” She grinned ferally. “Don’t doubt I’ll do it. I have before, and I enjoyed it. I’d be glad to do it again, and certainly to an enemy of the Alliance.”

“For your own sake, Wrathion,” Anduin added. “Just talk. For once in your life, don’t try to play the Game. Luciana’s not in the mood for it.”

“And of course, her mood decides everything,” Wrathion said, his gaze on Anduin a knowing one. Except he didn’t know.

“Her moods are dependent on mine, Wrathion, in case you haven’t noticed,” Anduin said dryly. “I don’t see you as much of a threat at all. If I did, she’d have your blood in her teeth.”

Wrathion obviously bit back his words, and then he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “If I’d known I would receive such a welcome,” he started, and Luciana growled. He glanced at her, trying to mask his fear with annoyance. “Alright,” he conceded, holding up a hand to placate her. “Alright, I’ll speak plainly.” His eyes flickered with fire when he looked back to Anduin. “I was hoping to talk.”

“We’re listening, but you’re not saying much,” Luciana said, warning in her tone.

“I was hoping to _talk_ ,” Wrathion repeated, glaring at her, “with the Prince. Alone. Which is why I tried to catch him out here, while you were occupied.”

She must have ended the meeting early to see him, Anduin realized, and a bit of warmth blossomed in his chest. “No,” Luciana said flatly. “Whatever you want to say to him, you say it here.”

Wrathion’s lips twitched as though trying to scowl, but he kept his face relatively impassive. “You’re rather controlling,” he commented.

Anduin sighed, and Luciana looked at him, questioning. Did he want her to break Wrathion’s neck? She would do it gladly, he knew. “Just speak, Wrathion, please,” he said, letting exasperation creep into his voice.

Wrathion looked between the two of them, and smiled, and that smile told Anduin that Wrathion was not going to say what he came for. Whatever it was, it was likely very important, but Wrathion wouldn’t speak on it unless it benefitted him somehow, and Luciana was obviously not having it. She was clearly completely done with Wrathion, despite only being around him for a few minutes.

Luciana spoke suddenly. “How old are you?” she asked. She’d obviously seen the same thing in Wrathion’s smile. Such stubbornness, and the inability to move past it despite the fact that it would harm Wrathion more than anyone else, showed how immature he actually was.

Wrathion was obviously caught off guard, and Anduin smiled. Luciana had a soft spot for children - maybe she’d interpret the dragon’s age to mean he was a child. She would ease up on him, then. “He’s not even ten,” Anduin said. Luciana’s gaze flickered to him.

“Really,” Luciana said quietly, considering.

“Dragons mature much more quickly than mortals,” Wrathion added.

“You don’t act very mature,” Luciana shot back, turning her gaze on him again. “You keep silent on an obviously important matter because you don’t like me. Like a child.”

“Excuse me?” he retorted. Anduin intervened.

“He’s nine,” he said.

“Nine years old,” Luciana said. Anduin remembered suddenly that Frederic, Luciana’s baby brother, hadn’t been much older when she’d found him dead. “Why are you here, Wrathion?”

Hearing his name coming from her must have been jarring for him, especially considering the milder tone she’d taken on. Wrathion could obviously see her weakness for younglings, and jumped on it. He changed his posture slightly, adopted a less aggressive pose, lowered his voice a bit - Luciana saw it all, took it in, and didn’t let it affect her but let it look like it affected her, and Anduin felt a thrill of pride that she was his wife.

“I’m being hunted,” Wrathion said quietly. “Not by the Alliance, not by the Horde. Something dark wants me dead, or wants me to wish I’m dead.”

“And we should care?” Luciana said blandly. “The Alliance’s list would drop by one,” she said, referring to the Wanted list posted on every Call Board in Alliance cities and towns.  
Wrathion’s nose crinkled and smoke leaked out from between his lips. He obviously didn’t know how to respond to the question to favour him, not when it came from her. He tried anyway. “An uncorrupted black dragon, the last of the flight, could prove to be a very powerful and... influential ally,” he said.

“I’d rather have a new pair of boots,” Luciana said. “I hear black dragon scales hold a polish quite well. With your hide, I might even be able to make a nice new overcoat.”

Anduin intervened again. Wrathion, he’d noticed, was not looking as healthy as he could be. His cheeks were sunken, his lips were off colour, his eyes weren’t quite alert enough - none of it was overly noticeable but to a healer’s eye it was obvious. “How can we trust you, after all that you’ve done?” Anduin asked. “Our Father is mired in a war in Draenor, a war we didn’t need to suffer through, because of you.”

“I would say it’s because of much more than me,” Wrathion replied. “I did not make Hellscream’s decisions for him.”

“If my sons lose their grandfather before they’re thirty I’m going to place the blame squarely on you,” Luciana stated. It was not a warning. She said it like a fact. “And if they lose either of their parents, you’re going to wish that whatever hellish experiment brought you into the world had failed.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Wrathion said, eyes narrowing.

“Who do you think I am?” Luciana asked lowly, leaning forward into Wrathion’s space, forcing him to lean back.

“A powerful warrior with an impressive reputation?” he tried smoothly, and she glowered down at him. She wasn’t taller than him, but Luciana could make anyone look and feel infinitely small if she was so inclined. Sometimes, when Anduin’s nightmares resurfaced, it was a comfort to feel so small - to feel utterly mired in her presence, to feel as though she cast a shadow like a mountain range around you, hiding you from the world. He could curl up and she’d drape an arm over his side, tuck her chin over his head and pull his back flush against her, and he’d be safe. But during moments like this, it would make anyone feel weak and helpless.

Luciana straightened after a moment, only when she was satisfied that Wrathion had gotten the message. She wasn’t in the mood for games. She’d been playing the Game all day. She’d returned to her bedroom wanting to get away from it, see her husband, enjoy his company, and Wrathion had ruined that. “You’re hunted,” she prompted. “Why come to Alliance territory when you’re our enemy?”

“I’m not your enemy,” Wrathion insisted.

“Varian thinks otherwise.”

“Varian isn’t right about everything.”

Luciana’s eyes flashed, yellow for a moment before they returned to their regular grey. “You would dare call the King by his name? You think you’re allowed to be so familiar?”

“I was merely trying to make a point,” Wrathion said diplomatically, inclining his head in an apology. He had been angry with Luciana’s control. Now he was playing along with it, probably falling into it accidentally and going along with it to save face. Anduin could see her typical process at work, even now. Throw them off-kilter, take control of everything, dominate them, and then let them speak their piece - deferentially, with respect to her authority. To her command. She would listen, and fairly, but only when they bowed their heads to her superiority. “The King,” he said, correcting his previous statement, “is not right about everything. He is only human. Humans can make mistakes, and they can correct them, but mistakes do happen.”

There was a knock on the door to the antechamber. “Everything alright, Your Highnesses?”

“Just fine!” Anduin called, his tone light. The guard’s sudden interjection had drained much of the tension from the atmosphere, and Anduin looked back at Luciana, seeing her molten fury calm into something cold, calculating.


	3. Brokering a Deal

Luciana regarded Wrathion carefully. Her fury had cooled into something cold, hard, and sharp - not unlike Oathkeeper, her famed blade of mithril and dark iron. “Varian is experienced in the matters of state,” she said. “More than I. More than you.”

“He is only human,” Wrathion repeated emphatically. “He is bitter over the siege of Orgrimmar, over the conflict with Hellscream and the tragic loss of Theramore. He sees me as an easy target for his blame, his anger, and deposits it all handily on someone not responsible for any of it.”

“You lied,” she said quietly. “You had Twinbraids killed. You were involved in Taylor’s death.”

She would be upset over this, of course. The death of any ranked officer always hit her near the heart. She’d nearly been one of them, not so long ago.

“I... apologize for what happened in Pandaria,” Wrathion said haltingly, the first apology Anduin had ever heard from him. The first thing even mildly resembling an apology. Anduin doubted it was from actual remorse, and thought it was more of an attempt to appease Luciana, the clearest and biggest threat to Wrathion at the moment. “I had to determine the strength of the Horde’s champions. I did the same thing with their commander, to test your heroes as well. Just as you test the strength of your foes, and just as you test and hone the strengths of your people.”

“We are not comparable,” Luciana growled. “I do not play people by whim. I play them to better their lives and the lives of my people.”

“Is what I did so different?” Wrathion asked pointedly. “I played people to try and improve their lives, to bring cooperation between Horde and Alliance - to bring peace, something your own husband has been touting for years - so that we could stand against the Burning Legion, united and powerful, and save our world. How is that not an attempt to better the lives of your people? Of all peoples?”

Luciana was scowling now, the expression contorting her face into something terrifying. Wrathion tried not to see it, and failed, and hid it admirably. “You are a liar and a fool, and a danger to everyone around you,” she said. “You cannot be trusted and I will not suffer your presence here any longer.”

“You are blind,” Wrathion snapped, eyes narrowed.

“And you are a naive and temperamental child,” she retorted. “Your world view is incredibly narrow. You claim to have the best interests of an entire planet at heart yet you cannot manage to save your own scaled hide. You think, by coming here, catching the Prince alone, that you could somehow trick him like you did the court of the Celestials. You naively thought he could be swayed with simple words and a party trick,” she said, referencing the smoke that Wrathion had released a moment ago from his nostrils. “You claim to be the last black dragon, uncorrupted and all-seeing, and yet,” she said, smiling toothily, victoriously. “And yet.”

“And yet?” Wrathion prompted, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Luciana only smiled. “Why not go to Shadowstep?” she asked. “I’m sure the Shadows could use a black dragon such as yourself in their ranks.”

“I have no desire to be controlled,” he said. Anduin recalled, briefly, that Wrathion’s first few years had been spent trying to gain his freedom, trying to escape and overpower those who had tried to dominate him. Anduin had heard part of the tale from the black dragon himself, and other bits and pieces from some of the various champions he’d spoken to over the years.

“Yet you come to me?” Luciana said, her smile sharp like a dagger.

Wrathion did snarl now, silently curling his lips over his fangs. “Who is hunting you?” Anduin asked. Wrathion seemed surprised that he’d spoken at all, but he hadn’t needed to until now. Luciana had done a more than adequate job so far in questioning the black dragon.

“I don’t know,” Wrathion said. “I thought, at first, that perhaps some servants of the Old God had taking a shining to me.” He shrugged. “Then I thought, perhaps Shadowstep is displeased that her Taylor was allowed to die. She was quite possessive of him after collecting him.”

“We’ve heard,” Luciana said dryly.

“I thought perhaps she was hunting me. But there’s been no indication from her that she’s interested in anything but studying Titan artifacts in that infernal base of hers. You do know why she wanted Westfall so badly?” Wrathion said, trying to tempt her.

“Her base in the southern hills,” Luciana replied easily. “We’ve spoken. At length,” she added.

“Ah,” Wrathion said, trying to stall so he could think. “So you have a regular discourse with the Shadowstep. Quite an intelligent move on your part, dear Princess.”

“You thought we would shelter you?” Luciana said, jumping to another subject. Normally it would leave her conversational partner flustered and off-balance, but Wrathion seemed like someone who could keep up with her easily enough. Sometimes she didn’t even do it on purpose - her mind worked quickly, much more quickly than the minds of almost everyone around her. It was one of the reasons she liked being around Anduin so much. He was one of few that could keep up with the jumps and rapidity of her thoughts. “Why would you think your enemy would have such sympathy?”

“I am not your enemy,” Wrathion repeated, growing frustrated and not even trying to hide it. He slipped away from her like a snake, paced the length of the balcony restlessly. “I want only to see Azeroth safe from the Legion. You want to see your people safe and happy and prosperous, if I’m not gravely mistaken?” he asked sarcastically, looking at her with sharp eyes and smiling crookedly and critically. “You want your allies to be safe and happy so you can all get along like a house on fire and play nice together all day long. And then you can all go home to your nice houses that you don’t have to lock because who would ever hurt you?”

“If you want cooperation from Stormwind, you’re moving away from it,” Luciana warned, and Wrathion stopped.

“You’re correct in saying that I was foolish to come here,” he said, and smoke wisped up from his feet. He was going to shift into his draconic form, Anduin could tell. “It was a mistake, one I shall not repeat.”

“Wrathion,” Anduin said suddenly, interrupting him. Wrathion’s eyes flicked over to meet Anduin’s gaze. The orange irises burned like flames and the pupils, slit like a cat’s, were wide in the low light of the afternoon - and perhaps from fear, or adrenaline. “If you’re not our enemy, you need to prove that.”

“He wouldn’t,” Luciana interjected. Her gaze was lighter now. She was satisfied that Wrathion was put in his place, and he was going to leave, and she’d have her peace and quiet and soft, pliable husband - no. Anduin could see her eyes were still sharp. She appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely satisfied and assured with her words. It was an act, but Wrathion had fallen for it and was glaring at her for it. For some reason, she wanted Wrathion to stay. For Anduin’s sake, he realized suddenly. She’d seen than Anduin was worried, and had chosen a strategy that revolved around that idea. “He wouldn’t do anything decisive. He can only play along the top of the fence like a cat, too scared to descend either side. He’s too afraid of making a true enemy to be able to make any lasting alliances, ones that go beyond gold and petty trinkets.”

Wrathion’s nose was crinkled in a snarl, but he held in his sudden anger quite admirably. “I would be a fool to alienate the Horde or the Alliance,” he said. “Both are necessary for the defense of Azeroth.”

“You’re playing a different tune now,” Luciana said. “You wanted Varian to disband the Horde after the Siege of Orgrimmar, take over everything in sight. You are indecisive. Faltering, like a newborn colt.”

“I am the Black Prince,” Wrathion said dangerously. “I haven’t brought that into things because I thought it best to respect your authority while in your territory, wolf,” he spat, but Luciana took it as a compliment to be called a wolf and smiled humorously. Anduin could see the joke. Being a scion of Goldrinn, the Ghost Wolf himself, would certainly skew one’s perception of wolves in general. “I could quite easily turn your entire Court against you, without any magic, any shadows but those cast on you by my words alone.”

“I haven’t seen any of that,” Luciana said mildly, though Anduin knew she had seen it, in Wrathion’s subtlest expressions. “All I’ve seen is a child too naive and afraid to act. You’re unsure of the ground under your feet. Heavy things like dragons sink into sand quickly, Black Prince,” she said mockingly. “And the Court of Stormwind is the harshest of deserts. I’d know. I’ve been to Tanaris.”

“Black dragons are known for bathing in lava,” Wrathion countered. “Heat is no trouble. Nor is sand - dragons can fly, if you’ll recall, for days on end. And even deserts have mountains, outcroppings of bare rock left behind by the seas rich with life they once were. It would be no trouble to find a place to perch, to cast my gaze down on the land below for prey.”

“Any prey you’d find would be half-dead already,” she said easily. “You obviously can’t do much else.”

“Half-dead prey is all the more desperate to live. Have you ever truly fought a man in a corner, Princess? Fighting all the harder for his impossible situation? It takes double the effort to break someone with nothing left to lose. But as I hear it, you’ve been there before. You should know, then, the futility of it all.”

Luciana was apparently satisfied with that, and she glanced at Anduin briefly. “You will stay here,” she said to Wrathion, nodding for Anduin to leave the balcony. “If you leave, I’ll simply alert the guards and they’ll find you for me. I’m sure some champions would be more than happy to join in on the manhunt... excuse me, child hunt - for some gold or a commendation.”

Wrathion was glowering and didn’t reply, but he didn’t move either except to cross his arms and lean back against the stone handrail. This was what he’d wanted. He’d wanted them to take him in, offer protection that only a Royal House could, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. He was least happy about needing help in the first place. Luciana’s taunting put him into an outright foul mood.

Luciana followed Anduin into the bedroom, shutting the doors firmly behind her and flicking the curtains into place. She turned, eyes heavy, and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, pulled his hips against hers as close as they could be, and left him short of breath and uncomfortable in his leggings. He wanted to take them off. He wanted to have her here, now, on the floor if he had to.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I left you this morning,” Luciana said, breathing heavily. She cupped the side of his face with her rough-palmed hand, brushed a lock of unruly hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. “What you do think?” she asked.

“He could be a great asset,” Anduin said. “But he is a black dragon.”

“And a black dragon in the Court is the last thing any of us want,” Luciana sighed. “You want to keep it.”

“Him,” Anduin corrected gently. “And yes, I do.”

“We kept Damran. We don’t need to keep him.”

“They’re not pets,” Anduin said laughingly.

“They act like it,” she grumbled, but she let him pull her into a kiss gentler than the last, less desperate, more savouring. She softened under his touch, inhaled deeply when he caught her lower lip between his and sucked gently. “I wanted to come back sooner,” she complained as his mouth moved from her lips, across her scarred jaw, down her neck. She tilted her head to give him access, almost melting against him as she relaxed under his ministrations. “I ended the meeting earlier than scheduled so I could come here and see you and get rid of some of the tension.”

“This tension?” he muttered against her bare neck, kneading Light into her lower back. She groaned and leaned forward against his chest. “Is your back hurting again?”

“A bit, but it always hurts in some function or another,” she admitted, and then sighed. “Can you give me a massage?” she asked plaintively.

Anduin smiled. It was so nice. She spoke so sweetly to him. “Of course, my love,” he said. “After.”

She groaned. “Of course, a Light-fucked black dragon had to interrupt my plans,” she said. “I wanted to come here so I could come, not so I could strangle him.”

“You seemed to enjoy it all the same.”

“It was nice,” she admitted grudgingly.

“You wanted to come?” Anduin asked.

“Oh, yes. I came here to come, several times, and hopefully make you come too.”

“I like that plan,” Anduin said lightly. “Let’s deal with Wrathion first, then.”

“I’ll let you talk now. And anyway, you make better decisions than I do. I’m too angry.”

He pulled back and kissed her softly again. “You’re much more capable than that,” he said.

“I know. But I’m the warrior, not a priest. I’ll let you decide this one.”

“Will you be the one to tell Father, then?”

“I’ll talk to him,” she sighed. “Oh, the things I do for you...” she said, turning away from him, slipping from his arms to retake her position as the wolf, the implacable fury. Anduin interrupted that, stalled her for a moment.

“Are because you love me?” he asked, expecting a quip or a grunt or some joke to dismiss it. She was in that sort of mood, it seemed.

Instead, she stopped. She half-turned, shoulder to him, and looked at him. The silence, her open gaze that was empty, waiting to be filled, made his breath catch in his chest. She was trying to express to him what she never felt she could, what she’d told him never seemed to come to her enough to be able to bring it out in the open, to show him properly. She loved him. He knew she did. 

But times like this, when she was open, quiet, completely still - warriors were never still, they were always moving, their bodies always working overly hard even when asleep - for only a few moments, he could almost see her soul in her eyes. It was, he thought, a patchwork of scars and broken swords and endless screams of agony - and she looked at him like she was drowning, begging him to reach out to her, pull her out of it.

Sometimes Anduin felt that even surrounded by her family, her father and her husband and her loyal friends and her own children and her dogs, she was utterly alone. 

Being a warrior is a lonely thing, Varian had once told him. You aren’t like the people around you. You take up too much space. You’re never comfortable in your skin because your fury, your physicality, makes you feel like you’re going to vibrate right out of it. And you scare the people you’re supposed to protect. They can’t understand you. Sometimes it feels like not even another warrior can understand you. You have no one. Worst of all, you have no place. No home, nothing to return to. No one to welcome you, because no one can understand it.

Anduin stepped forward, reached out to take her hand, and tried to meet her gaze, tried to show in his eyes the love she was trying so hard to show him. He hoped she understood. He hoped she knew that he understood her, what she was trying to say without words.

 _I would die for you_ , her eyes told him. _I would kill for you. I would live for you. Everything that I am is for you. I am alive right now for you, only for you. You are my everything. You are the only thing worth my life. You are my guiding light. I will follow you forever. For as long as you will have me, I am yours. I live for you._

“I love you,” Anduin murmured, smiling, yielding to the intensity of it all, letting himself be swept up in it and tossed around and hoping he’d come out a better man at the end of it.

Luciana only ever looked at him like that for a few moments, and when it ended, when she turned away or let it fade, Anduin felt oddly empty, like hunger, but it wasn’t a physical need. If he didn’t know better, he would say that she’d filled him with Light and then abruptly taken it away. But she wasn’t a Light-wielder, and it left him wondering what else it could be.

He took the lead when he regained himself, and walked out onto the balcony. “Well?” Wrathion prompted. “Am I to be beheaded? Hung in the Cathedral Square? Or perhaps it’s the gibbet for me?”

“Those are old practices,” Luciana commented, closing the balcony doors behind them. “We mostly use massive amounts of electricity to fry the brain, nowadays. I’m told by reliable gnomes that it’s a mostly painless procedure, and infinitely entertaining for the spectators. That much electricity makes the body do odd things.”

Wrathion glowered at her imposingly for a moment. She wasn’t impressed.

“You can stay, for now,” Anduin said. “But you’ll need to stay hidden. I don’t want riots to start over having another black dragon in the Royal Court.”

Wrathion visibly winced at the reminder of what his “aunt” had done. Onyxia had dealt irreparable, irredeemable damage to the kingdom as a whole. If not for her influence, Anduin would have grown up with a mother. Without Onyxia’s hand in the pot, many good men and women would not have died needlessly. The Stonemason’s Guild would not have broken apart and VanCleef wouldn’t have formed the Defias Brotherhood. Varian would not have been taken, broken, used, left with battle fatigue and nightmares so vivid he sometimes couldn’t tell the difference between dream and reality. Perhaps even Westfall would be in much better shape than it was. So much misery and suffering could be laid squarely at the hands of a single black dragon.

“We won’t have another Onyxia,” Luciana said. “No matter what it takes. You will not damage my family.”

Wrathion was clearly surprised with the outcome, but overall he was likely pleased, as well. “Of course,” he said smoothly, bowing his head to Anduin and then to Luciana as he spoke. “When one is in hiding it only makes sense to take on a disguise. A mask, if you will.”

“Where are Right and Left?” Anduin asked.

“We were... separated by the demand of circumstances,” Wrathion said. His voice was smooth and assured now. 

“I could easily forge documents saying he’s from the fourth branch,” Luciana interjected.

“That could work,” Anduin said, turning to her. “Merchants are always thought to have silver tongues and a love of shiny things and luxurious clothing.”

“The fourth branch of the House from which you hail, I assume?” Wrathion said to Luciana. “It would certainly be an honour to be considered an Amadeus, however false and temporary the pretense.”

“You’re not safe yet,” Luciana reminded. “I still have to convince Varian that it’s a good idea. He’s still King, you know, despite our increased power.” She indicated herself and Anduin, speaking of the ever increasing influence Varian was letting them take as the war in Draenor raged on, drawing to a close even as heroes of the Alliance and Horde alike worked to invade the Hellfire Citadel. It was a long and arduous process and they’d already lost many capable champions, but things were finally looking up.

“He’ll be difficult,” Wrathion said plainly. “Perhaps I should leave now, after all.”

“At least you’re not stupid,” Luciana sighed. “I’m trusting Anduin’s judgement on this, dragon. Don’t give me cause to regret that. I don’t like doubting my husband,” she warned.

“I will do my utmost,” Wrathion replied with care to the mindless twitch of her fingers which had just recently wrapped so effortlessly around his neck, making it look more delicate than glass.


	4. A Delicate Trust

Varian and Luciana were in the room together.

They’d been in there for nearly ten minutes already.

Anduin could hear their voices slowly climbing in volume, for the third time.

He had had the caretakers take Bolvar and Alaric far and away from that room.

Wrathion was standing behind him, hands clasped behind his back.

There was a lot going on in that room.

“They’re rather angry,” Wrathion commented.

“You’ll recall what happened the last time we had a black dragon in disguise in the court,” Anduin replied dryly.

“All too well. I don’t plan on working against your House, though. I plan on merely hiding here for a while.”

“You’ll recall what happened to Father last time we had a black dragon,” Anduin retorted, glancing back at Wrathion with a look of warning. “Be quiet. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

Wrathion huffed, but remained quiet. Anduin turned his attention back to the shouting in the other room.

“... will not have a fucking black dragon in my halls!”

“All you have right now is your own damn bitterness!”

“A black dragon?! You know what they’re like! I can’t believe you’re arguing for this! You, of all people, should want to protect Anduin! Alaric and Bolvar!”

“I’ll protect them how I see fit!”

“You’re setting them up for slaughter! A black dragon! I can’t believe you!”

“I can’t believe how stubborn and foolish you’re being!”

“I will not have a black dragon in my city. I’ll ignore that you allowed it to stay, however briefly, without sounding the alarm. He is an enemy of the Alliance! You know this!”

“Why is he our enemy? Because you can’t let go of the past?”

“Watch your tongue. I’m still your King.”

“You won’t be King forever. I’m looking to the future. You’re still looking at the past.”

“He is an enemy of the Alliance! How could you not report this? How could you let him live?”

“Why is he our enemy, Varian? Because of your resentment? Your bitterness?”

“All black dragons are the enemy! They’d see us all dead and our world destroyed!”

“You are an old man and a stubborn fool, Varian Wrynn. I will not let you poison the future of this kingdom. Tell me why he is an enemy. Now.”

“He is a black dragon. Do I need another reason? Do you?”

“Yes, I do! No one is an enemy simply because of their race! That’s a title someone has to earn!”

“He released Hellscream! He caused this entire mess on Draenor!”

“Hellscream caused that mess, Varian! You know as well as I do that Kairoz, the _bronze_ dragon, is responsible. Not Wrathion.”

“He was involved. That’s enough. Did you forget he caused the death of Twinbraids? He caused the death of Taylor?”

“Twinbraids was one thing, Varian. He also killed the Horde general, if you’ll recall. We lost one life because of that. Nothing more, nothing less. Someone else stepped in within a week and they didn’t die quite so easily. And Taylor? That was the fault of a Light-damned necromancer. Not Wrathion. You read Celia's report. She found Taylor’s journal. Wrathion tried to warn him. You know what you’re doing right now? You’re being...”

“I’m keeping the interests of...!”

“I WASN’T FINISHED!”

There was silence for a moment.

“You’re being a stubborn idiot, Varian! You can’t let go of the past and it’s poisoning you, and you’re poisoning the future! This kingdom is going to be mine and Anduin’s, and then it’s going to be Alaric’s, and you’d damn us all with your grudges! You can’t stay in control forever, Varian, no matter how much you want to. Let. It. Go. Let us make our own damn choices. Anduin trusts that dragon enough to hide him. I trust Anduin enough to let him make his choices. He’s your son, but he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions. However much you want to protect him, you can’t hold him back. Let him make his own decisions. Let the past stay in the past. The future is more important.”

Her voice dropped in volume as she spoke and soon Anduin couldn’t hear either of them. At least they’d stopped breaking things. He glanced over at Wrathion, who was standing in the shadows cast by a torch with his arms crossed. “So?” he asked blandly. “What have they decided?” he asked, despite being able to hear them perfectly fine.

“Nothing, yet,” Anduin sighed. “But it’s looking up. At least Father isn’t threatening to come out and kill you himself.”

“Joy,” Wrathion mumbled. “If I’d known it was going to be this much trouble...”

“Why did you come here, Wrathion? To me?”

Wrathion regarded him carefully. “You insisted I was not an evil, dear Prince,” he said quietly. “I wondered if you still held that high an opinion of me.”

“You’re not evil,” Anduin confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean you’re good. That doesn’t mean we can trust you.”

“I will be on my best behaviour for the duration of my stay,” Wrathion promised.

“No schemes. No power plays,” Anduin stated firmly. “Leave Draenor to Father and Commanfer Celia and Khadgar, and his allies. Leave the Court to me and Luciana.”

“Of course. Who do you think I am? It would only ruin my cover if I tried to move on Luciana. She’d strangle me in the middle of the throne room.”

Anduin sighed. The sound of a door opening caught his attention and he gestured for Wrathion to move. They technically weren’t supposed to be there, Wrathion especially. He’d changed clothes and had altered his mortal form enough to not be recognized, but it wouldn’t stand up to any intense scrutiny. And they still hadn’t struck his name from the Wanted list.

“Anduin!” Luciana’s voice called, and she came around the corner. “He wants to speak to you, now. And you, stay,” she said to Wrathion.

“Where would I go?” the dragon asked, holding his hands out to either side. “Back to being hunted?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, but I don’t need you running amok in the Keep. I said I’d give you a chance but if you’re revealed, I’d kill you and tell everyone you were working alone. Otherwise there would be chaos.”

“I am aware,” he hummed, crossing his arms again.

Satisfied that they were relatively peaceful, Anduin went to speak with his father.

Varian looked utterly , completely exhausted. Like it was all he could do to stand. “You two are going to kill me,” he murmured. He seemed unable to even lift his head to see Anduin close the door, bracing his full weight on the table in front of him.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Anduin prompted.

"You think this is a good idea?” Varian asked, looking up. His eyes were dark, heavy. Tired. “To have _another_ black dragon in the Court of Stormwind?”

“He wouldn’t be in the court, per say,” Anduin said. “He’d be hiding.”

“From some unseen enemy,” Varian said. “From someone who wants him dead. Why should we be the ones to hide him? Why should we expose ourselves to him?”

“He wants to hide here, for a short while,” Anduin said. “He’ll behave. He wouldn’t chance Luciana strangling him again.”

“Again?” Varian asked, quirking an eyebrow questioningly.

“They... had a rough start,” Anduin said with a strained smile. “I’ve never seen her so angry.”

Varian frowned at Anduin. “What do you mean?”

“I could feel her anger,” he said. “All of a sudden, she was there, and she was angry. She jumped him, faster than I could see her move. I could barely get her to look at me.”

“Did she scare you?” Varian asked, eyes intent.

“...No,” Anduin replied slowly. “I didn’t let it scare me.”

“...Good.” Varian nodded once. “So, she’s not actually in favour of him staying here.”

“Not in the slightest,” Anduin laughed. “She’s arguing for it for my sake.”

“I can’t imagine she thinks this is a good idea,” Varian grumbled. “She yelled at me!”

“You’re being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn,” Anduin replied. Varian looked a bit better now. Luciana had exhausted him, his anger. Now Anduin could talk to him properly. Anduin approached, leaned his hip against the table next to his father’s hand. “She’s right, you know. You hold onto the past. We all do, to a degree. But we have to let the future happen, too. If we’re going to be taking over soon you’ll have to let us, first.”

“You just want to sit in the big chair,” Varian grumbled, but he smiled and then sighed and shook his head and Anduin knew it was okay. Varian leaned back, brought his heavy hand up to rest on Anduin’s shoulder. “I want what’s best for you,” he said quietly. “You know that? I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” Anduin said, putting his hand on Varian’s outstretched arm for a moment. “I know you do. But you have to let us make our own choices, too.”

“Let me advise you, then. This is a bad idea.”

“It might be. It might be a good thing, too. Do you want Wrathion to run around outside our control? Where the Horde might get him instead? It would really be an advantage to have him on our side.”

“That’s not why you want to let him stay.”

“Not really,” Anduin smiled. “But it’s a good reason to put on paper. No, I want him to stay because I think right now he’s scared and alone, and he’s going to do stupid things unless we help him. He came here because he knows me, not well, but better than he knows anyone else. Luciana says he’s naive. I think she’s right - I think Wrathion is still young, still unsure, still learning. He’s got a lot to worry about. We can give him a safe place, where he can learn. About the world, about the mortals he claims he wants to protect. Maybe it will be for nothing. Maybe we can make him into an ally, or at least someone who won’t lie to our faces and have our commanders killed by mercenary Horde.”

“Or he could have us all killed, take over the kingdom, and self-destruct,” Varian replied flatly. “He’s a black dragon, Anduin.”

“I don’t think he will. He’s not telling us everything. Not in that way,” he said hurriedly when Varian’s eyes darkened. “He has other reasons for being here. He told me he has visions from the Titanic artifact that created him. Maybe he had a vision about us.”

“Velen had a prophecy about her,” Varian said quietly.

“I heard, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“She told me something,” Varian said. “I’m not sure if it’s everything. She said that when the time comes, she was to trust her light. I don’t know what that means.”

Anduin considered it. She’d often call him ‘her light’. Whether Velen’s words were literal, or perhaps referencing the Holy Light itself, Anduin couldn’t say. But he knew that it would certainly have influenced Luciana’s decision to trust in his judgement. “I see,” he said quietly. There wasn’t anything else to discuss on it for the moment. “What will you do about Wrathion, then?”

Varian sighed heavily, and his hand dropped from Anduin’s shoulder. “I don’t know, son. I want to throw him in a gibbet, honestly. A dead black dragon is the only good one. I have to be honest with you, Anduin. This is my worst nightmare - to have another one in my castle. What will this one do? Will he take you? Split Luciana in half? Brainwash my grandsons? At least Freya is safe, far away in the Exodar. But when you and Lucy gang up on me like this, I know I need to look at it from another side. What do you think we should do?”

“Let him stay. Give him a disguise, illusions. Luciana can keep an eye on him while I take over the court. We can say he’s from the fourth branch of the House of Amadeus, the branch they send out to work trade routes and such, and he’s here to work as her assistant for a time.”

“How long is a time?” Varian asked.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t even know who’s hunting him.” Anduin shrugged. “We could contact Shadowstep about that. She might know, or at least have an idea. Whoever it is, they won’t come here.”

“Not with Luciana breathing down his neck,” Varian joked. “No, they’d know that if Wrathion stepped a toe over the line she’d murder him.”

“Messily,” Anduin confirmed with a grimace. “She nearly did today, anyway.”

“What was it like?” Varian asked curiously.

“Well, she was angry and wanted to kill him,” Anduin summarized. “But after, when I got her to back off, she looked at me like... I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly. “It looked like she was drowning.”

Varian’s brow furrowed lightly. He was concerned by Anduin’s words. “I’ll talk to her,” he promised quietly.

“Is it that difficult to be a warrior?” Anduin asked.

“It’s a lonely place to be, son,” Varian replied softly. “Don’t worry about it too much. We all have our burdens.”

Anduin would keep worrying about it anyway. More, probably, because of the intensity of the look Luciana had given him earlier. Even though she’d looked at him like that before, it’d been milder. This time, he’d hardly been able to breathe. But he would worry, discreetly. If they could worry about him, he’d worry about them. “I think we should let Wrathion hide here,” he said, returning to their previous subject. “Luciana will keep an eye on him and he’s already promised to be on his best behaviour. It’s in his best interest, after all.”

Varian sighed. “You’re asking me to trust a black dragon with the lives of my children, and my grandchildren,” he said.

“I’m asking you to trust me, and to trust Luciana.”

Varian regarded him for a few long moments. This was one of the only times Anduin had ever seen him unsure about anything. Finally, Varian reached out and pulled Anduin into a tight hug, which he returned just as eagerly. Dammit, he _missed_ his father when he was gone. Why did all of these stubborn warriors in his life need to leave all of the time? He clenched his hands in the cloth of Varian’s coat, holding his father tightly. “I’ll trust you two,” Varian murmured, and pressed a kiss into Anduin’s hair. “But if there’s any threat to you, to Lucy or to the kids, I’ll kill him myself. No second chances. No mercy.”

“I can agree with that,” Anduin said. “I’ll let him stay, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

“You can’t throw him. He’s too heavy.”

“Yes, I am aware. I’m sure I could find some way to get Lucy to do it for me.”

Varian smiled down at him tiredly, but proudly, and Anduin grinned. He liked having his father around like this. It was nice, he thought, to have a family you could love, who loved you. “Be careful,” Varian murmured. “I’ll have his name off the Wanted lists by tomorrow. We have bigger things to worry about, anyway.”

“That won’t look very good on paper,” Anduin teased.

“Then I’ll slap it on a wooden board and hit people with it,” Varian grumbled, and then he turned Anduin around by the shoulders and gave him a push towards the door. “Go on, then. Find a mage who can build him a strong enough illusion. And spend some quality time with Luciana. She’s grumpy. I think she needs a good fucking.”

“Father!” Anduin cried, looking at him over his shoulder, completely aghast. “That’s completely inappropriate!”

“It’s true!” Varian argued. “She yelled at me!”

“You were yelling at her!”

“She’s cranky! Go fix it.”

“Oh, my Light,” Anduin murmured, rubbing his face tiredly. Varian gave him another little push, to encourage him, and Anduin couldn’t hold back the resulting smile. “How are things going with your Professor?” he asked slyly, avoiding the next push.

“Don’t talk to me about that,” Varian said. “It’s not appropriate for a son to ask his father about these things.”

“Luciana talks to you about it,” he argued.

“Luciana’s a warrior like me,” Varian replied. “And speaking of Luciana...”

“Don’t say it,” Anduin warned. “And anyway, I don’t know how much privacy we’ll be getting if Wrathion is here. You might need to babysit.”

“I am not babysitting a black dragon.”

Anduin ignored the shred of real anger in his voice. “If you want Luciana to not be cranky, you might have to.”

“Ugh.” Varian groaned. “Give him to Amadeus Squadron. I’m sure Vic will be able to entertain him. Or at least occupy him. You remember the last time she was in here with me? She argued about the origin of the Westbrook Warrior until I was ready to reach out and break her neck. She kept saying it was from Duskwood. Everything was from Duskwood.”

“She was messing with you,” Anduin soothed.

“I know. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t aggravating.” Varian waved him off. “Go on, then. You’ll be busy with that black dragon. And I’ll warn you now, Anduin...”

“If he makes a threatening move you’ll cut his head off, I know. Thank you,” he said warmly.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

Varian looked at him in silence for a moment. “That’s never been in question, Anduin. I just don’t want you to get hurt. If you lost Luciana...” he trailed off. He didn’t need to finish. They both remembered all too well what had happened the last time they’d lost Luciana.

“We’ll take care of it, Father. We’re more capable than you think.”

“I know you’re capable. I’m still going to worry.”


	5. Family Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think about how much Luciana and Anduin love each other and I cry.
> 
> (I have no shame in shipping Canon Character/Original Character. I have no shame at all, really.)

It wasn’t always clear what Anduin was thinking. Sometimes it was all Luciana could do not to scream and shake some sense into him. Now was one of those times. She didn’t know what in fel he was thinking, bringing a thrice-damned _black dragon_ into the Court. Worse, he wanted the black dragon to stay with them.

Near her _kids_.

She could only hope that Wrathion’s self-preservation was stronger than his need to constantly reaffirm his capabilities. It wasn’t even necessary for him to do it. Everyone knew what kind of chaos a black dragon would wreak, given even the slimmest opportunity. Luciana only prayed she’d gotten the message across to him - that if he fucked up, she’d fuck him up. Royally.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she murmured for the third time in ten minutes.

“You’ve said,” Anduin replied, mild irritation coloring his voice at the repetition. 

Luciana had chosen to have Naemete be the one to craft the illusions necessary to hide Wrathion. Everything from his smell to the colour of his skin was going to be hidden. She’d chosen the draenei because she knew Naemete was intelligent, and trustworthy, but it was also to show that Luciana trusted her. That, more than anything, Luciana knew would cement Naemete’s place in the squadron. Even if she wasn’t currently with them, she’d remember her. The next time Luciana called on her, Naemete would be thrilled to rejoin her squadron.

Now all there was to do was watch as Wrathion tested the pendant Naemete had crafted out of the durable purple crystal draenei seemed to all favour. He turned it this way and that, took it off and slipped it back over his head. Luciana watched, more than mildly displeased at the entire situation, as the illusion flickered when Wrathion put the pendant down on the table and walked to the other side of the room. As long as he kept it within a few yards of himself, the illusion would hold. Past that, it would flicker noticeably, and then fall away completely the further away he was.

“Adequate,” he sniffed, and Luciana chewed the inside of her cheek to hold back a retort. Anduin’s hand on her forearm helped, and she glanced over to him.

He had a wry smile on his face. “We’re ever so glad you find it acceptable,” he said dryly, to Wrathion. The dragon - he looked completely different now, Luciana would have to get used to seeing Amadeus features and sandy-toned skin on him - turned to glare at the Prince.

“You should be,” Wrathion replied just as dryly, and then smiled. “Ah, how utterly... refreshing it is to be in Stormwind. The city is aptly named! The wind storms around your castle endlessly. I don’t think I’ll get a good night’s sleep while I’m here with all the creaking.”

“Get used to it,” Luciana snorted. “You’re stuck here, unless you want to become someone’s prey. Again,” she added. “You have a lot of things to be thankful for right now, dragon. You’re still alive. I’m letting you use the Amadeus name - and if you fuck that up, there will be hell to pay. You’ve been allowed into the castle, into the Royal Wing itself. You’re still alive,” she repeated. “But if you complain too much it won’t last long.”

Wrathion eyed her, but he didn’t snap back like she’d expected. Maybe he was learning his lesson. Anduin had told her that Wrathion had been different the last time they’d spoken so long ago. But even a dragon could change a lot in six years.

“Still no idea who’s hunting you?” Luciana asked.

“None.”

“Varian’s made contact with Shadowstep. She’s looking into it.”

“I’m surprised you could earn her cooperation at all.”

“She’s prime minister of one of our provinces. She’s cooperative enough,” Luciana retorted. “Where’s the file I gave you?”

“On the desk,” he said dismissively. “I’ll look at it after.”

“No, you look at it now. You need to learn everything written down in that file. Servants are curious, and guards will be keeping a close eye on you, but you have no idea what kind of things nobles can drag out of you. They’re trained to find the smallest chink in your armour and take advantage of it. If you can’t become the person in that file, it’s all over. And I get to kill you,” she reminded. “They’re probably worse than your dead kin.”

Wrathion eyed her again, and without even arguing her point about black dragons he acquiesced - again, a surprise. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll look at it now. But I won’t learn much if I’m half-starved.”

“I’ll have something brought up for you,” she sighed.

“I suppose it will be a meal fit for a human,” Wrathion sighed. “Well, as you said, I can’t complain.” He pinched at the tunic he was wearing. “But I must say, blue is not my colour.”

She rolled her eyes and gave Anduin a look that said _you deal with it_. “I’m going to go and check on the boys,” she said. “They should be getting ready for lunch but you know how they can get.”

“Distracted?” Anduin teased, and leaned down slightly to kiss her cheek. She put her hand on his lower back, gently, for just a moment while he did it. “I’ll fetch Father, then. You know he’s probably forgotten.”

“Probably,” she replied. “I’ll see you on the balcony.” As she left, she asked a guard to have food sent up for Wrathion. To keep his cover, she simply stated he was her cousin and her guest and left it at that. The guards were never big on doubting their royal charges, except perhaps Anduin who had a reputation for running off alone to go on adventures, and bowed their heads to Luciana to confirm her orders.

They ate lunch sometimes on a recently constructed private balcony that sat on the front side of the Keep. People down below could look up and see all three generations of the royal family eating together. Sometimes Luciana would let the twins peek their heads out from between the wooden bars of the handrail to watch the people below. They’d always comment on the tiny size of whatever was in the front courtyard that day, and Luciana would watch like a hawk to make sure they didn’t try to get onto the handrail itself. They could fall off it all too easily, and being scion of Goldrinn would mean nothing if they did.

Having Wrathion in the Keep put a damper on some things, but thankfully their family meals were untouched by his influence. Her time with Anduin wasn’t so lucky. They could hardly do anything more than a brief peck on the lips most of the time because there was always something going on, and they simply didn’t have the time to relax, let alone have sex or even just kiss each other properly. 

But now Wrathion was wandering the halls, about to start running errands for Luciana to keep up his pretense of being her assistant and distant cousin, and he could hear everything. His senses were much finer than Luciana’s and Varian’s combined. And Luciana knew that he would tease Anduin endlessly if he heard anything inappropriate. Anduin could take it, she knew. He was an adult, and fully capable of taking care of himself. Luciana just didn’t want Anduin to feel embarrassed about being close to her. 

It would just have to wait until she could find a reasonable excuse to either leave the city with Anduin, perhaps go to Northshire for a visit, or send Wrathion in her place. He would likely cause trouble, but at least she could get rid of the _want_ for Anduin that was building a little more in her gut with every passing night.

“Mama!” Bolvar cried when she opened the door to their playroom.

“Hi, boys!” she replied, kneeling down so they could hug her around the neck. They were growing so quickly, already five years old. They were walking and talking and starting to use the small toilets the caretakers had brought out for them, and they insisted on doing everything themselves - and Luciana couldn’t be prouder. “How are my little monsters? Huh?” she crooned, squeezing them to her chest. They were so small in her arms, but she knew that one day they’d be stronger than her. Maybe not physically. Maybe neither of them would be a warrior. But they’d be strong.

“We good!” Alaric answered.

They babbled to her in simple words and phrases, all the way to the balcony, each gripping one hand with a vice grip. They toddled and sometimes tripped trying to match her much longer, slower strides, and she smiled the whole way. “You wanna see Papa and Grandpa, too?” she asked. “They should be there by now.”

“Let’s go see!” Bolvar insisted, moving to try and pull her along. She responded by faking a battle-shout and sweeping them both up into her arms.

They squealed and laughed, high-pitched and joyous, and she laughed along with them. It was so completely refreshing to hear them laugh. Their hands were tiny and soft and so different from hers, and they always smelled fresh and new. Sometimes they smelled like mud and grass for days after playing outside, but she didn’t mind it at all. They smelled so much like their father at times like that, honeysuckle-sweet and accented with Elwynn spicewood. “I love you both so much,” she said, smiling, and kissed each of their faces a few times.

“I love you, Mama!” Bolvar said immediately.

“I love you more!”

“I love you more, more!”

“I love you more, more, more!”

“Enough, enough!” she laughed, bumping the door open with her hip. The noon sun shone down bright and warming. Just as she’d predicted, Varian and Anduin were already seated at the round table. “You both love me so much it makes Papa sad! He thinks you love me more!”

“We love Papa!” Bolvar said, wriggling and trying to get down. Luciana squatted down and let them go and they rushed to Anduin. Bolvar changed course and went to Varian, instead, because the man always picked him up and swung him around and he loved it. Alaric...really didn’t.

There were always at least a few people who’d sit in the front courtyard below and look up at the royal family until they went back inside. The boys would wave, yell down ridiculous things like ‘how was your Darnassus’ instead of ‘how was your day’. No one seemed to mind. At least, not verbally. Maybe some people found it questionable that the Princess didn’t immediately jump to correct the boys, but she knew they’d learn. They had time. They were still so young. They were clean slates.

“Eat up,” Anduin commanded when the food was brought out. “If you eat all of your peas, maybe the chefs will make something tasty for dessert!”

Alaric gasped. “Can we have ice cream?”

“I want candy!” Bolvar argued.

“Ice cream!”

“Candy!”

Luciana looked between the two as they went back and forth for a good two minutes. Eventually Varian intervened by threatening them with the Tickle Monster, which was actually just his wiggling fingers, and the boys squealed and jumped out of their chairs. Anduin had to chase them down before they escaped into the castle.

This, at least, was something Wrathion hadn’t touched. Whatever else he did, whatever else changed because of his hidden presence in Stormwind, he couldn’t touch moments like this. Moments where Luciana was reminded of how much she loved her family. It could only be better if Freya was here. Luciana would hold her in her lap, Freya still a bit too young to run around like the twins did. But she would watch them, maybe giggle and laugh and make a mess of her food like any two year old would.

Freya, she knew, was safe in the Exodar with Enaeon watching over her. She still worried, but it was muted. If there was any reason for Luciana to not worry, it was Enaeon’s presence next to the girl, and the regular updates he sent by portal. She was growing quickly while mired in a veritable nexus of Light. She had recovered quickly from her sickly state of being, was no longer a runt. She was now a healthy little child, and in just under a year she’d be rejoining them in Stormwind, circumstances permitting.

One of Enaeon’s mage friends had gotten an idea to ease communication. Some sort of runed notebook, or paper, or something that you could write on. The words would appear on the corresponding item, and you could write a return message. It was still in production. Luciana looked forward to more immediate news on her child’s development. For now, though, she was content to know that Freya was healthy, happy, and developing well. It was also nice to hear from Enaeon so often. Not having him here, after having him constantly by her side for so long, was disorienting at the best of times. Lokaal did his best, but he wasn’t Enaeon. He was a great healer, but he was also completely different.

Which was fine, really. He was still part of the squadron. And for Luciana, all that mattered was that each member complimented the others. Unique skills, cooperative personalities - these were the things Amadeus looked for. They were more family now than squadron, anyway. Fighting, killing, bleeding, and nearly dying next to people for years on end would do that.

“Mama!” Bolvar cried, climbing into her lap. “Mama!”

“Yes, Mama,” she said, smiling automatically and holding him close with a massive hand on his back. He was tiny, compared to her. Almost everyone was, but this only reminded her of how delicate her children still were. How easily they could be hurt, bent, or broken. “Who else is here?”

“Mama, Papa, Grandpa, Ala, Bo,” he recounted dutifully.

“Puppy!” Alaric added. Indeed, Shauna had managed to worm her way onto the balcony somehow. It was more likely that Varian had let her trot along at his heels. She was getting old fast - dogs didn’t live long, as a general rule, but Shauna was still going strong. Matthew, the old hound master of Amadeus, had estimated that a healthy boxer terrier would live about fourteen to sixteen years. It was a bit longer than a mastiff, not as long as a sturdy terrier. Luciana thought it looked like Shauna would keep going at her current pace until she hit thirty, and then simply drop dead in the middle of a run. Whatever her life span was, she was a good dog.

Luciana made a kissing noise and patted her thigh, and Shauna’s head popped out from under the table. Her rose ears, halfway between up and down, perked forward at Bolvar, and then she attacked his hands with licks. He squealed loudly and struggled to climb further up into Luciana’s lap, away from the ticklish whiskers of the dog. Luciana’s smile grew and she helped him up until he was comfortably resting against her chest, arm slung over her shoulder.

She looked over at Anduin. He had the sappiest expression she’d ever seen him wear on his face. He used something like it whenever she did something like this with their kids. It made her face warm. “You two need a vacation,” Varian said. “Maybe a second honeymoon.”

“Mama,” Bolvar said. He turned it into a chant when she ignored him. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“You need a first honeymoon with that Professor of yours,” Luciana responded easily. She ignored Bolvar for the moment, knowing he would stop in a minute. She didn’t want to encourage the chanting - Frederic had done it for years when Mannarie had indulged him every time. “I hear she’s coming back to Stormwind? Who’d you send after her?”

“Jonathan Galion,” Anduin replied. “He has a night shift in the library,” he explained. “They’d always see each other there. It took a while - you know how she is. But, he’s a friendly guy. Very kind heart. They struck up a sort of friendship. They wouldn’t get together outside of the library, but they’re close enough that she was willing to see him. He spoke to her. She’s not moving back here but she is visiting.”

“Where is she staying?” Luciana asked. “With her sister?”

“No, she’s rented an apartment in the Glory Seekers territory,” Varian said. “You know they hold a big piece of the Old Town?” he asked.

“Of course,” Luciana confirmed. “But, don’t they only rent out to family of their members?”

“Usually, but because she’s a Professor they’re letting her stay a week. It happens,” Varian shrugged.

“Well, Professors are valuable resources,” Anduin interjected. “Not only for their knowledge, but for their wisdom and their connections. They know all sorts of people.”

“And about all sorts of things,” Luciana added.

Bolvar stopped chanting, and instead leaned back so he could look at her face. His hand landed on her jaw scars, his favourite thing to look at, and he stroked them as his parents spoke. She tilted her head to make it easier on him. Anduin smiled at her sweetly. “He really likes those,” he commented.

Luciana shrugged the shoulder that Bolvar wasn’t using as a balance. “They’re a different texture than normal skin,” she said. “He does the same thing with your scars, few as they are. Remember when he wouldn’t stop poking your lip?”

“I had to threaten to bite him,” Anduin chuckled. Bolvar looked over at him, sticking his hand against his mouth. His eyes were wide and glassy and Luciana jostled him a bit to try and wake him up from his daze. He bounced around a bit, and then looked at Anduin directly, who bared his teeth in an imitation of what he’d had to do when Bolvar had ceaselessly poked the scar on his father’s lip.

“Papa,” he said. “Papa.” Thankfully he didn’t start chanting again.

“Bo!” Alaric said, loudly, from Varian’s lap. “Bo! Candy!”

“Don’t start that now,” Varian scolded gently, and Alaric tried to climb up his chest like Bolvar had Luciana. “Okay, fine. That’s fine. Up we get.” Varian, too, was smiling now, and he looked at Luciana for a brief moment. In his eyes, she saw everything she knew he saw reflected in hers. They never talked about it. Sometimes she thought he might have been afraid of it. Each of them had their own demons. She was sure he’d figured out by now how to deal with them. After all, he’d lived to his mid forties. That wasn’t common for warriors.

They’d never really spoken about it, and Luciana was fine with that. It honestly made her feel uneasy to think of the things Varian might have done to live so long. Or maybe he was just that stubborn. It wouldn’t surprise her. And maybe Anduin could keep her going until she was forty. That would be nice, she decided. She’d be able to see her children grown up, all together, learning to lead their kingdom like a family.

“How’s your cousin settling in?” Varian asked, eyes sharp on Luciana.

“We’re not talking about that here,” she responded, managing to keep her voice even. Varian respected her enough to not question her sudden irritation, though she knew he would talk to her about it later, in private. Anduin would too. She could tell by the look he flashed at her that they were not yet done talking about Wrathion. That was fine, she decided. She and Anduin talked about everything. A black dragon was only the latest on the list. They’d figure it out.


	6. Unwell

She found Varian later in the afternoon so he wouldn’t have to chase her down. For once he wasn’t sitting at his desk looking over the infinite stream of reports that came in all hours of the day from the furthest reaches of the kingdom. Instead, she found him on his balcony. The doors were left open behind him, and Luciana walked through the curtains that danced slightly in the breeze.

Varian’s balcony was fit for a King, to be sure. It was wide, lavishly decorative in warm colours with purple edgings, the colour of his House. Gold leaf designs swirled about every available inch, and the balcony itself could be closed off to turn it into a sun room during the winter.

It also overlooked Olivia’s Pond, the small freshwater lake that sat next to the Keep. The shrines that held portals to various contested areas could be seen clearly, and the small territory Varian had gifted to the Tushui pandaren when they’d first joined the Alliance was busy with wandering dragon turtles.

“Nice view,” she commented, moving to stand next to him. He had his hands braced on the stone handrail, his head bowed slightly.

“It is,” he agreed quietly. She heard him sigh, and the shakiness of it surprised her though she knew it shouldn’t have. Varian was middle-aged, but for a warrior he was incredibly old. “How are you feeling, Lucy?” he asked.

“Well enough.” She hummed thoughtfully. “The twins are growing fast. I turn around and they’ve already learned something new. It’s a hassle to keep up with them but it’s... nice,” she settled with a smile. “And they make Anduin smile. I received news that Dania passed her exams and is now a full-fledged member of the Kirin Tor. I’m very proud of her. So is her girlfriend,” Luciana added. “I haven’t met her but Ophelia has. Nice girl. Well, woman. I’m not happy about Wrathion’s presence here. What few things he hasn’t touched, I want to stay that way.”

“Family meals being one of them,” Varian provided. “I gathered as much. Why did you fight so hard to have him stay, then?”

“Because Anduin wanted it,” she said easily. “He’s better at seeing things like this. Right from wrong. Me, it’s enemy versus ally. I don’t care if it’s wrong. Anduin does. And maybe I should,” she said with a slight shrug. “So I listen to him. He wants the dragon to stay, he stays. But if he fucks up, I kill him. That’s the deal.”

“That’s a simple way to put it,” Varian commented.

“So it is.” She sighed, half-turned to face him and leaned her hip against the low stone wall. “And how are you dealing with having another black dragon in the court?”

“Badly,” he said softly. She was glad he was honest with her. He’d been hiding things from Anduin, things that hurt him. Perhaps he didn’t see as much need to hide them from Luciana.

“Nightmares?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

“Don’t be. You were right. It’s about time you two started to really take over.” He sighed heavily, and dropped his chin to his chest. “I feel old,” he complained mildly.

“How did you live so long?” Luciana asked, purposefully changing the tone of the conversation from joking to serious. Varian heard it, and looked up at her knowingly.

“I had a kingdom to look after,” he said. “I couldn’t abandon them. It’s my duty to lead them on a good path. I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from that, not after what happened to my father.” He eyed her. “Why?”

“Does it still hurt?”

His expression was unreadable, and she looked away, to Olivia’s Pond down below. “Yes,” he replied after a too-long moment. “It’s almost unbearable. Anduin kept me sane, long enough for me to undergo the ceremony.”

“The worgen?” she asked.

“Yes. It... helped. Made me feel more connected - not to the people around me, but the natural world. It’s not the same,” he sighed. “But it helped.”

“And your Professor is helping?”

He smiled then. It was tired, and heart sore, but genuine and sweet at the same time. “I don’t really know how she does it, but she keeps me feeling alive even when I want to die,” he said. His voice was warm and Luciana smiled slightly when she heard it. “She’s so energetic. She’s... she’s got a zest for life. She wants to know everything, meet everyone, see everything there is to see and talk and talk and talk...” He chuckled, shook his head fondly. “She got real low, Lucy. But she picked herself back up and now she’s higher than the clouds and I’m trying to learn from her.”

“I noticed you seemed a bit more educated on the finer points of social dining during lunch earlier,” she said dryly, and Varian laughed.

“I do try,” he said, giving her a warm smile. It fell after a moment. “Why ask me about that?” he said. “Why now? I thought Anduin was keeping you up.”

“He is,” she said hesitantly.

“But it’s not enough.”

“I want it to be enough.”

“I think he would too, if he knew.”

“He can’t know.”

“He needs to.”

“Why?” Luciana asked sharply. “Why does he need to know? It’ll only hurt him.”

“He can help.”

She fought to keep her tone even. “He can’t help,” she said softly. “Nothing can. It got better, for a while. Now it’s getting worse, no matter what I do. Who I talk to. I’m holding on but it’s like he’s a punctured life raft in a hurricane. I can’t hold on forever. Eventually I’m going to drown.”

Varian was frowning now, and he straightened while he spoke. “I know it’s hard,” he started.

“You’re not a berserker,” she interrupted quietly. “You know fury. You know the tension. But you don’t know this... this fear. I can’t get rid of it. Goldrinn showed me how but no matter what I do, it hangs on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know what to do. I thought Anduin could keep you up alone. If you think he can’t...”

“I don’t think anything can.”

He ignored the wetness of her eyes and pulled her gently into a hug. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can help you. I tried everything I could to give you what you needed to hold on until the bitter end.”

“It’s not enough.”

“So you said. How long can you hold on?” he asked, not letting her go. She appreciated it, and tucked herself into the hug like she had so many times before. Even tired, sore, and heartsick, he made her feel safe. Like a parent, a guardian, should.

“I don’t know. Not long. I hope I make it to thirty.”

Now, he pulled away, hands on her shoulders. “What?” he said sharply. “That’s in three years. Not even. So soon...?”

Her gaze slid down, away from his face, and she shrugged.

“You’ve been hiding it,” he growled.

She nodded. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You want my advice?” Varian asked. “You came to me for it, I think. I’ll give you some. Tell Anduin. Talk to him. Let him help you. If he knows, he can react better to things he might not see otherwise. He can help you hold on a bit longer than that. Three more years,” Varian said. “Three years. You’ve got more than that in you, Luciana.” He was desperate, and trying not to show it. For his sake she ignored that she could see it anyway. “Your kids needs more than that.”

“It would kill him to know he couldn’t help me,” she said. “I’d rather he not know.”

“He’d find out afterward,” Varian argued. “And he’d feel infinitely worse for not being able to see it. You think it would make him happy to know you died alone and miserable? To think that he’d failed you so completely that you’d wanted to die to get away from him?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t find out.”

“He’s not an idiot,” Varian growled. “He’d figure it out. You’re selfish, Luciana. You want him to be happy while you’re alive. What about when you’re dead? You don’t care, as long as you don’t have to see it.”

Her heart rate kicked up and her eyes flashed threateningly. “Don’t talk to me about selfishness,” she said lowly. “How long have you been depressed? Barely able to get dressed in the morning? How long have you been despairing at the thought of being alone every night?” she snarled. “Don’t talk to me about selfishness, old man,” she bit. “It’s not selfishness to want him to be happy a little while longer. I know he’ll be hurt when I die. Giving him a few more good years is worth it.”

“You could give him a hell of a lot more if you would just trust him,” Varian bit right back. “Why did you marry him, Luciana? Why did you make that oath if you knew you weren’t going to keep it?”

He’d insinuated that she was choosing not to honour her oath and it was all she could do not to outright attack him. Instead, she took a deep breath and a step back. He tried to pull her back in with a disdainful sneer, and she kept her breathing even. “I’ll keep it as long as I can, Varian,” she said quietly. “Don’t you dare put the blame on me. I didn’t choose to be born a warrior. I didn’t choose to become a berserker. This is a burden I didn’t want and I’ve hated myself for it ever since it awoke. I’ve done the best I could with what I had and I will not have you stand there and lecture me on things you know nothing about.”

“I know about being a warrior. I am one,” he retorted.

“You’re not a berserker,” she corrected, almost sadly. “I’m sorry you’re having nightmares because of his presence here.” She turned and made to leave.

“Lucy,” Varian called as she left the balcony. He followed her. “Lucy!” he tried again. The anger had drained from him, leaving only sadness and a desperate need to help his daughter. She stopped, let him catch up but didn’t look up at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not blaming you for it. I couldn’t. I know what it’s like. As an elder warrior, as Goldrinn’s first scion, as your father - whatever it takes. Please. I’m begging you. Talk to him. Just... show him. Whatever you can. However you can. Trust him. Enough to let him help you. Or at least try.”

She looked up at him, and when she saw his eyes she softened. “He can’t help me,” she said apologetically.

“He can try,” Varian insisted. “Please, Lucy. I can’t lose anyone else. Not you.”

How long had he been alone, she wondered? She didn’t think she’d ever find out. “When this is all over and Draenor is conquered or destroyed,” she said, “take a honeymoon with your Professor. Anduin and I can hold the fort for a while.”

Varian wasn’t sure whether or not she was insinuating she’d still be alive in a few years, and neither did she. All she knew was that she wanted to see her kids. All three of them, together in one place, with Anduin. It wouldn’t happen for a while yet. But she would live long enough to see it. She’d live long enough to see Freya return to Stormwind. Dania had said as much, last time Luciana had spoken to her during a mutual visit to the Amadeus manor. She’d said that her vision had had the same feel as Frederic’s death. That, at least, settled some of the unease in Luciana’s gut.

“Lucy,” Varian said softly when she made to leave. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I love Anduin more than anything, and I’m proud of him. But you’re my child, too, and I love you and I’m proud of you.”

It knocked the breath out of her and made her eyes water, and she pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. “Thank you,” she said thickly. The door shut with a sharp click of brass behind her.


	7. First Night in Darkshire

Finally, _finally_ , she had Anduin alone. It had taken a bit of wheedling, she’d called in a few favours and had left things to a handful of nobles who were to hold the status quo for two weeks while Luciana and Anduin were in Darkshire for ‘business’, but they were alone. She’d even managed to keep Wrathion away from them by giving him the task of keeping the nobles in line. Anduin had vouched for him, and Luciana had decided that that was enough for her. It was enough for her to give the dragon an opportunity to prove his trustworthiness.

“This is your chance to prove yourself to me, dragon,” she’d told him. “Be discreet, be smart, and keep them to the task I set to them.”

“Easy enough,” he had said with confidence. “Tell me a bit about them. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with. Though I doubt any of them have a stronger will than I.”

She’d left it in his hands. Either she’d return to a relatively peaceful Court that had at worst completely stalled without her or Anduin there to drive it forward, or Wrathion would take it over and she’d get to bite his throat out. Either way, she’d be able to deal with the aftermath.

They took gryphons to Darkshire with a handful of guards. Victoria and Jillian were with them, along with three Royal Guards. A small entourage, but they were travelling light and were expecting to be safely entrenched in the rapidly growing trade center that was Darkshire. Plus, Victoria was a local, and people would remember her. It would help diffuse a bit of the tension that would simmer at the arrival of two Royals.

A house on the edge of the town had already been prepared for Luciana and Anduin. It had enough space for their guards, as well, but the top floor belonged solely to the two Royals.

Luciana dropped her pack on the floor, waited as Anduin laughingly dismissed the three Royal Guards, and when he was in range she wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him in. She slammed the door shut, knowing that no one would dare to open it without permission - not even Victoria, casual as she was - and swung him around a few times like they were dancing in a ballroom. He was still laughing, and it rang in her chest and made her grin lopsidedly.

“You’ve been trying to get me alone for weeks,” Anduin said, smile fading from an infectious grin to a softer, fonder one. “What do you want to start with?” He said that, but she could tell the ride over had tired him out. It didn’t bother her at all - they’d have two full weeks to catch up.

“What do I want to start with? Oh, you naughty man,” she said jokingly. “I want to start with you. I want to lie on this bed in the dark, relax, and get us both worked up, and I want you to take me on my back however you want.”

“You want me on top today?” he asked, sliding his hands up to rest on the sides of her neck. He leaned down and caught her lip between his for a moment. “I thought you’d want to fuck me all night.”

“Tomorrow, I think,” she replied, digging her fingers into his hips to keep him flush against her. “Tonight I want you to enjoy me,” she said as he leaned their foreheads together. Already the thought of it, of him inside her after so long without more than a quick kiss, was making her hot.

“You don’t want to enjoy me?” he murmured. She could feel his breath on her lips.

She hummed. “No,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I don’t think so. I want a clear head so I can watch you.”

“If you’re sure,” he murmured. He gave her three soft and slow kisses and then pressed their mouths together and swallowed the short moan she gave him. His hands framed her face first, slid down her neck and down her chest and then tugged at her belt, and she smiled against his mouth.

He undressed her slowly, with loving hands and a roving mouth that smiled when she exhaled, when she loosened and turned in his arms and when he kissed her neck and shoulder. She let him tug and push her to the bed, feeling loose-limbed and relaxed for the first time in a long time, and fell onto the mattress and bounced and breathed a laugh when he fell onto it next to her.

Anduin was the first to move, getting up on his hands and knees and moving over her so he could kiss her again. His lips were soft, his skin was smooth under her deft fingers as they unlaced and untied and loosened clothing until there was none left. She treasured his smile, the shaky exhale when her hand wandered down his chest, down his stomach to press with fingers spread against the outside of his thigh. He kissed her neck, she turned her head and he kissed up the side of her neck to her ear and then he kissed her lips again, all in silence. She could feel her pulse and she could hear his heart beating quickly in his chest, under her hand, and in that moment she loved the sound of his heart nearly as much as the rest of him combined.

It was easy to get her ready for sex because her body was always on the brink of an adrenaline rush, but Anduin moved slowly and took his time and when he was ready she was breathing hard and every breath was close to a moan, and every moan was nearly a desperate keen.

She knew he could hardly see her in the darkness, and she wished she couldn’t see him so that every other sense would take in so much more. She wanted to hear nothing but Anduin’s heart, feel nothing but the bare whisper of his fingers across her scars, smell nothing but the sweat beading on his skin and the heady musk of sexual arousal that surrounded them both like a cloud. But she could hear everything, see everything, smell everything too clearly, and she snarled silently and tucked her nose into the crook of his neck. She wanted to completely immerse herself in him, but the world around her was never silent and she could only concentrate on him and try to let his heartbeat drown out the rest.

“Alright?” Anduin asked quietly.

“Yes,” she answered, brushing her nose over the line of his jaw as she inhaled. She smiled crookedly against the corner of his mouth when he pressed down into her, guided himself into her with a hand and a moment later settled in the crook of her thighs, fully hilted inside her.

“Oh,” he groaned softly, and pressed his open mouth to her throat. She felt the hum of his voice, reached up to tangle a hand in his long, soft blond hair and let her other hand settled on the back of his shoulder. He rutted slowly, not pulling any part of himself away from her body anymore than he had to so that he could pull out just enough to thrust back in. He moved slowly, savouring it, letting it build, and she relished the buzz under her skin and the heat of him inside her.

Luciana could hear, could smell, could tell after so many years, so many days and nights and sleepy mornings, when he was close to his climax. If she paid any attention to her own body she would be, too. It’d be easy, just a finger pressing at the right place, but she wanted him to enjoy her body, wanted to listen to the little breaths and moans and gasps and the sounds she didn’t have labels for. She felt the tremble of his limbs, felt the muscles in his back straining as he fucked her slowly, softly enough to make her chest feel tight and her breath short.

He was close, and she bent her knees and lifted her legs and pressed her heels into the little divots beside his tailbone, dug her fingers into his back by his spine and felt for the strain of his muscles . When he came it was a quiet, loose moan, trembling hands grasping at whatever part of her they could reach, eyes squeezing shut and cheek pressed to her temple. His breath caught, and when it started again when he was spent it tumbled from his throat, shook him and took what was left of his energy.

He sagged down, against her, into her, and she let her feet touch the mattress, kept her knees bent to cage him even as he adjusted himself to settle around her as well as against her. He breathed deeply, sighed shakily, and she wrapped one arm around his lower back, her other hand wandered up and down his back slowly, caressing smooth, sweaty brown skin.

He shifted again, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and used her chest as a pillow. She didn’t doubt he could fall asleep right there on top of her, his cock softening and about to slip out of her, her blood still pounding, screaming, crying out for release. This time she was going to ignore it. Her body wanted relief but she didn’t want it, didn’t need it when Anduin was loose-limbed and sleepy on top of her. 

Her body was a tool, separate from Luciana herself. Anduin could use it as many times as he wanted and she’d be glad for it, glad he was pleased with it like she was. She’d put so much effort into making a good tool, the best tool. It was good for her, would let her fight her heart out - probably literally. It was good for her, too, because Anduin could take such pleasure from it.

When she needed pleasure she knew he’d give it to her, use her body to bring her pleasure and relief from the perpetual tension that wound her tighter than an elementium spring for all but a brief moment, right after climax. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

Tonight she wanted to savour every moment of him, every breath that was slower than the last. She let him relax, enjoy the afterglow, and when he was nearly asleep minutes later she rolled over with him and reversed their positions. He grumbled a complaint and she kissed his forehead and left him for a moment, pulling the blanket that smelled crisp and clean over him first so she could use the washroom.

He welcomed her back to the wide bed with soft snoring, and she wound herself around him, buried her nose in his hair and gripped the blanket near his stomach with a deathly grip. She was going to cry, and it was going to wake him. She was not going to cry. He was not going to make her cry with his softness. She was not going to wake him to cry.


	8. Short-Term aka Having A Good Time

Duskwood’s feral worgen population had seen a record low in the years following the jumpstart Luciana had given Darkshire’s economy. The people who’d moved to the growing town, notably the fur traders, had taken a keen interest in seeing the worgen contained in order to let the bear and wolf populations flourish. The more bears and wolves, the more fur, and the more profit. It was in the interest of everyone from local civilians to traveling merchants to fur traders to keep the feral worgen under control.

Unfortunately, with the war on Draenor taking so much effort, Darkshire had fallen a bit off course.

“The worgen population is estimated to have doubled in the past two years,” a very nervous bookkeeper told Luciana, whose eyes were roving the map they’d laid out. Already she had several plans she could implement to take care of the problem. Short term and long term, as well as a more immediate approach which included simply throwing herself into a den of worgen and having a good time.

“And the Night Watch hasn’t been able to take care of it, even with their added numbers and their new gear?” Luciana asked.

“They’ve been occupied just with keeping the town safe,” the Mayor interjected. Ello Ebonlocke was not a casual man. Living in Darkshire had given him an intense gaze that Luciana was sure would intimidate most others. He was also solely dedicated to his town, which she found admirable. “We can’t spare the safety of everyone in Darkshire when enough adventurers still pass through to at least keep the worgen away from us.”

Luciana looked up. Jillian and one of the Royal Guards, a man named Gregor Isenstrider who everyone simply called Four, had accompanied Luciana to her meeting with the Mayor. “I know that look,” Jillian said, grinning and showing off her teeth. They were unusually sharp, even in human form. “That’s a fun-times-ahead look.”

“Four, go back to the house and tell the Prince I’ll need to speak to him about this today,” Luciana said.

“Your Highness.” Four tapped his heels together and gave her a smart salute before turning and walking away at a brisk pace. No one stood in his way. Luciana looked at Jillian.

“Jill, tell me what you think,” she said, gesturing to the map.

“Well, a cave’s a good place to hole up if you’ve got a pack to watch out for,” she said. “There’ll be an alpha in there, maybe two or three, working together. They won’t notice if you take out a couple of their bairns, but...”

“Bairns?” Ello asked. “Is that Gilnean slang?”

“Yeah, means little ones,” Jillian said shortly. “People who’re under your care. Bairns. You could take a few out, no one would care, they’re ferals,” she explained. “But take out an alpha? The whole pack falls on you.”

“Of course,” Luciana nodded. “Leaders aren’t as easy to replace. What about the Emerald Hills pack? You said they’re centered around the Twilight Grove?” Luciana asked, turning to the bookkeeper.

“Yes, our scouts report clumps of feral worgen streaming from the Grove,” the man stuttered.

“It's relic of dragons long gone and a harbinger of dreams to come,” Ello intoned. “That’s what a night elf told me years ago. If it means more worgen...” he trailed off.

“Stormwind will answer the call,” Luciana promised him. “Duskwood is a part of the kingdom just as much as Elwynn or Redridge. They receive the aid they need. Should Duskwood have need of the Imperial Army once more, we will come.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Ello said, a flash of relief flitting briefly across his stern, age-lined face. “It’s a comfort to know the capital will hear us.”

Victoria chose that moment to return with Pop at her side. The wolf seemed more irritable than usual, which Luciana attributed to the stench of wet fur and blood she’d been inundated with the moment she’d stepped outside into a strong wind. The worgen were becoming a problem in Duskwood, she knew.

“How is it?” Luciana asked when Victoria was at the war table.

“Up to par,” she sniffed. “Following regulations, at least. No personality. It shows they’re new.” The Night Watch had erected a barracks for the members of their militia who lived alone, or in otherwise unfavourable conditions. It was a recent addition to the town, and Luciana had sent Victoria to inspect it on her behalf. Though she seemed careless at times, Victoria was strict when dealing with certain things. A soldier’s sleeping arrangements was one of them.

Luciana saw in Victoria’s face that she was satisfied with the care afforded to their militia. It was a good sign. It meant the people who organized to defend Darkshire could do their jobs properly. It was one less thing to worry about.

“And the people?” Luciana said, quieting. Her voice was hard to miss, most of the time, but when she wanted to she could be quieter than a mouse.

“They’re fine,” Victoria assured her. “Confidence in the Night Watch has risen, and with the fur trade booming like it is spirits are high even with the feral worgen coming back up. I don’t think it can go on for too long, though. They still remember all too well what it was like what, seven years ago? Light, it’s been that long,” Victoria mumbled. “Wow, now I feel old.”

“You’re not much older than I am,” Luciana said with a small, crooked smile.

“Yeah, but you must feel like you’re a hundred,” Victoria replied. “What with everything that’s happened.”

“We’ll talk more later,” Luciana promised, seeing Ello becoming somewhat impatient from the corner of her eye. She had every right to keep him waiting, but she wouldn’t. That was completely inefficient. Victoria nodded, as though making note of it.

Luciana made firm plans with Ello. He didn’t want to spare any Night Watch members when they were needed in Darkshire, but he was willing to send two people as guides. The rest of the militia was kept busy most nights - and days, really - simply keeping order in the ever-growing town.

“We’ll need more than six people,” Victoria said. “Me, Jill, Four and Teagan, and two guides. That’s not enough to take on an entire greater worgen pack, let alone three.”

Luciana felt a smile try to grow on her scarred face. “You’re forgetting a variable, Victoria,” she chided gently.

“What? Do we get cannons?” Victoria asked, eyes lighting up for a moment. “No?” she said, seeing Luciana raise a single eyebrow in response. “What, then...? Oh.” She smiled, white teeth flashing against her black skin. “Oh, that’s even better.”

“What is?” Ello asked.

“I’ll be going with them,” Luciana said smoothly. “If you can have a set of black leather armour ready for me by tomorrow, I would prefer it to my plate set. It would be easier to manoeuvre in the forest.”

“Of course,” Ello said automatically. “But, Your Highness - forgive me if this is disrespectful,” he started. “Isn’t it dangerous to send the Princess of Stormwind into worgen-infested territory?”

“I appreciate the concern, Mayor Ebonlocke,” she said. “It’s unnecessary. I assume you’re familiar with the term ‘berserker’?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.” He blinked once, and then his eyes widened a fraction. “So it’s true then? I’d heard rumours that you were, but one can never place too much stock in mere rumours.”

“Hear it from the lion’s mouth, then. I am a berserker. And I’m looking forward to letting loose.” She smiled and she knew it came across as a manic expression because of the awkward lines her scars pulled into her face, and she relished the sudden unease that washed through the room. “I and my party will set out tomorrow, late afternoon, just in time for the ferals to start waking up,” she said. “Have our guides ready by then, and the leather armour, and we’ll take care of your infestation.”

“Your Highness,” Ello said, bowing at the waist. It was a bit sloppy compared to what she’d get in the city, but it was the intent that counted and she took note of his respect. “It will be ready for you.”

“Good. I’ll have a long-term plan for you by the end of the week,” she said. “Short-term, you can see what can be done with feral worgen fur. I’m sure you could make nice coats out of it, at least. Perhaps some pressed felt hats.”

She led the way out of the Town Hall, mostly ignoring the stares and whispers. She’d gotten used to the murmurs that would start when she passed. Most were simply pointing out that she was there. Some spoke of her scarred face, or the sharpness of her gaze. ‘She sees right through you’ is something she heard regularly. Others spoke of less complimentary things and for their sakes, she ignored it. So long as they still showed the respect owed to a Princess of House Wrynn, they could talk as much as they wanted. Talk was cheaper than a sack of silverleaf.

Jillian kept pace with her, and Victoria took off to find one of her old friends with Luciana’s nod of permission. Four met them on the way back to the house they’d been given for the duration of their stay, and reported that the Prince was currently occupied with local Raven Hill ward-keepers but could see her in an hour or so. “The Mayor is going to have two guides and a set of leather armour for me ready by tomorrow,” Luciana said. “I’ll give you my measurements and you can bring them over, and make sure they do a good job.”

“Your Highness,” he said curtly, and took a small notepad from the satchel at his hip. He recorded the numbers she gave him and saluted again before taking off towards the armory.

When he was gone, Luciana was left with Jillian. She took the time to watch for signs of distress from the hunter. Though there was a clear line drawn between feral and tame worgen, they were still quite alike. Luciana saw no immediate reason for concern, but asked anyway. “Are you alright coming along with us?”

“What, to hunt ferals?” Jillian asked, and then she snorted. “Ferals are beasts, Luciana. It’d be like comparing you to a rabid dog. Both are angry as all get-out, but one is actually a person.”

“You don’t think ferals are people?” she asked. “What about you, before you took the cure?”

Jillian took a moment to respond. “Ferals ain’t people,” she said softly. “They’re not wolves, they’re not people. They’re dangerous and need to be killed.”

“There’s a high chance they’ll simply come back after being returned to the Emerald Dream.”

“Then we’ll kill them again, until they find a way to lock them up rightly.”

Jillian’s tone indicated the end of a conversation, and Luciana let her be. Some things weren’t meant to be aired out, not to a superior. Luciana knew she’d get to it on her own time, if not with her squadron then with Desmond and Victoria. “While I’m thinking about it,” Luciana said. “How’re things with you and Des and Vic? You said on the way out of Dustwallow you were thinking of staying home.”

“With your go-ahead,” Jillian added.

“It’s against regulation to keep a soldier from resigning.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t a soldier anymore and you ain’t my SO,” Jillian countered.

“True enough. I still wouldn’t do it. So?”

“I think I might do that,” Jillian said slowly. “Not right away. If you find someone good who can take scout, then I might. I...” she hesitated.

“What is it?” Luciana asked, gently pulling her aside and out of the main road. With the shadows giving them privacy, Luciana met her gaze intently. “Jill?”

“I think I want out,” Jillian said, brow furrowed. “I want to stay with Desmond. But not without Vic.”

“So you’re three?” Luciana asked.

“Yes. It wouldn’t be the same with just two of us. I don’t think Vic would stay with Desmond alone, and I can’t do it without Vic, but Des is just wonderful and I wouldn’t be happy knowing he was out there...” She sighed heavily. “I want out. I want to stop fighting. I love you and the squadron, don’t get me wrong,” she said hurriedly. “But I think it’s time for me to settle down.”

Luciana nodded once, slowly. “Whatever you want, Jill.”

“You’re not angry? For leaving? Or for leaving for your brother?” she asked, the tension in her shoulders lessening the longer Luciana went without responding negatively.

“Of course not,” she soothed. “Why would I be? No one can fight forever, Jill. You had a good run with us but if your time’s up, then it’s up, and there should be something nice waiting for you at the end of it. And Des can be a real sweetheart,” Luciana added. “Have you told Vic?”

“We’ve spoken on it a bit,” Jillian answered, expression easing. “She wouldn’t mind me staying with Des, as long as we remember we’ve got one more still out and about. I think she likes the idea of coming home to us,” Jillian laughed. Luciana directed her back into the main road - they were close to the house now, and Luciana wanted to get settled in before she spoke to Anduin about her plan of attack, which comprised mostly just attacking things.

“Anyone would. Coming home to one chickadee is nice, but two? Lucky gal,” Luciana said with a low whistle.

“Yeah,” Jillian said. “Actually, Luce, there was one thing...”

Luciana came to a stop when Jillian lagged behind. “What?” she asked. “Do you want to get married? I could arrange a multiple-person marriage, if you want. It’s unusual for a noble family, and I don’t think Chris and Bann are going to be able to produce a viable heir unless they also go for a multiple-person...”

“What?” Jillian asked. If she’d been in worgen form her ears would’ve perked straight up. “You can do that?”

“Well, yeah,” she said simply. “I am the Princess.”

“Yeah, but... Des said it would be hard. I know Gilneas’ court wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“This isn’t Gilneas,” Luciana responded simply. “And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a high chance there will be another apocalypse of some sort or another tomorrow. So really, what’s the point of holding back?” she said, shrugging her heavy shoulders.

“That’s true,” Jillian said hesitantly. “But, anyway. We spoke about it, first while you were under in the nexus, and again a little while ago... Vic would be okay with it, we made sure.”

“You and Des would marry, since Vic doesn’t want to be the one to give birth though she wouldn’t mind kids,” Luciana supplied. “It’d give legitimacy to you and Desmond’s kids as heirs to Amadeus, and it would also show good faith between the kingdoms.”

“Ah, yeah,” Jillian said. “I forgot, somehow, that you could see stuff just like that.”

“It’s a skill,” Luciana said. “Paramours aren’t unusual for nobles,” she continued. “So Victoria could come and go as she pleases. As long as you and Des treat it as normal everyone else will, too. And whatever kids you have would have the advantage of having three parents, one who’s completely uninvolved in politics and can therefore devote full attention to them. It’s a good plan,” she said. “But, like I was saying. If Chris and Bann can find someone who can give birth for a multiple, or even just do a first marriage for a year between Bann and a female to get an heir, there wouldn’t be any good reason to deny them a marriage, and then there wouldn’t be a reason to deny you, Des, and Vic one either.”

“Wouldn’t it be odd to have two multiple marriages in the family?” Jillian asked.

“Isn’t it odd that I can see in the dark?” Luciana countered. “Isn’t it odd that you turn into a wolf-lady with furry ears?”

Jillian pursed her lips, and Luciana chuckled and pulled her along with an arm slung over her thin shoulders. As a worgen Jillian was wide and tall, but as a plain human she was downright tiny, save for her height. Next to Luciana, though, even her five feet and four inches was next to nothing.

“Talk to them about it,” Luciana said. “I’ll talk to Chris and Bann, and see if they’re willing. I’m sure they could find a female person they could be friends with, at least, who would have a kid in exchange for nobility. Nobility in relation to the Princess, no less.”

“Through marriage.”

“Still related.”

Luciana was satisfied with what she’d seen from Jillian. She wasn’t upset by their plans to hunt worgen, and she was working things out with Desmond and Victoria. Everything else would settle itself around that, one way or another.


	9. Come To Bed

The grand room Luciana was sharing with Anduin had apparently been turned into an office while she was out speaking with Mayor Ebonlocke. Anduin was still safely ensconced right in the middle of the reports that had been gathered from what seemed like every single citizen of Darkshire, to the point where he didn’t even notice Luciana’s return.

She was quiet when she entered, unbuckling her sword belt and laying Oathkeeper reverently against the wall by the hearth. She shrugged off her long overcoat and slung it over the back of the nearby armchair, a comfortable gray affair, and toed off her boots. They’d warm by the fire, and she could scrape off the mud when it was dry.

He noticed her when she slid her hand over his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “I’m back, my light,” she murmured, and leaned down when he tilted his head for a kiss.

“How did it go with the Mayor?” he asked, sighing and leaning back into his chair. She could feel the tension in his shoulders.

“Well enough. We’ve got an immediate plan, which I’d like to talk to you about, and short-term is in the works. I’ve given him some things to chew on. Long-term, I’ll have to think a bit more, but I have some ideas. I’ll get back to him by the end of the week. How long have you been sitting here?” she asked, glancing up at the grandfather clock that ticked quietly in the corner. “We left a few hours ago. Have you been in this chair the whole time?”

Anduin smiled sheepishly and Luciana sighed and smiled fondly. She pulled the heavy chair back with one hand and moved to give him room to stand. When he was on his feet she pulled him close in a one-armed hug, pressing his side to hers. “Don’t get mad at me,” he said plaintively, but he was smiling still.

“I won’t, if you take a break now,” she responded, and released him. He immediately reached out and pulled them back together and she smiled and let her fingers curl around his hips.

“What’s this you wanted to talk to me about?” he hummed when he had his arms hung around her like banners. He was rocking slightly, side to side, and she relaxed into the sound of his heartbeat against her chest.

“Ebonlocke is giving us two guides to bring us to the Emerald Hills tomorrow. We’ll be dealing with a greater pack, so I’m expecting three alphas,” she answered slowly, relaxed. “The Twilight Grove is supposedly a spawn point, considering there’s a portal to the Emerald Dream there. We’ll clear it out and druids from Raven Hill will go and see what they can do about sealing it. I sent word to Darnassus that it’s becoming a problem. They should respond within a few days.”

“Who is we?” Anduin asked curiously.

“The guides, Vic and Jill, Four and Teagan, and me,” she responded. “And you, maybe.”

“And me, maybe?” he asked. “And you?” He pulled back, hands sliding down to rest on her hips so he could lean back and look at her properly. “You think it’s a good idea to throw the Princess into feral worgen territory? There’s a lot that could go wrong.”

“I’ll be fine,” she soothed automatically. Seeing his expression of worry only deepen, she continued. “I’ll have two squad members with me, two Royal Guards, and two Night Watchers. And I’m planning on really letting loose.”

“You’re going to let yourself berserk,” Anduin translated, expression clearing. “And you want me there to see it?”

“If you want,” she responded.

His expression lightened considerably, worry replaced with wonder. “Of course,” he exclaimed, and then he wet his lips and seemed to consider it. “But, I always thought you didn’t want me to see that.”

“I was afraid,” she said shortly. “I am afraid. But I know I shouldn’t be.”

“You’re afraid? Of what?”

“Well,” she hesitated. She wanted to pull away, put some space between them. She felt crowded, overheated, but she didn’t want to let go of him until she had to. “I don’t want to scare you away. I like having a family and a home to come back to. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” he said immediately. “Of course not. Lucy,” he said, cupping her scarred jaw. When she looked up, he met her gaze squarely. “Whatever happens, however frightening you might be while you’re berserking, that’s not going to change how much I love you, how much the twins love and need you, how much Father loves you. We’re a family because of you,” he said emphatically. “You made this family. You made your home. Of course we’ll always welcome you.”

She smiled weakly. “I know that,” she said. “Which is why I’d like you there tomorrow. So I can... prove it, I suppose, to myself more than anything.”

“Alright,” he said evenly. “I’ll head out with you. If nothing else, I can Shield you while you have fun.” He smiled wryly. “And Light knows there’s going to be injuries.”

“It’s always a good idea to bring a healer along,” she agreed with a brief smile. “And you’re one of the best.”

“You’ve never really seen me heal,” he said. “There’s rarely opportunity for me. I’ve never really seen you fight. So tomorrow will be good for both of us.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “I have to admit,” he said. “I’m excited. You always talk about fighting like it’s the best thing in the world.”

“It’s fun,” she said. “I... I like to use my body. I like physical exertion. I like to exhaust myself.”

“You’re always moving,” Anduin said. “Always chasing stillness.”

She paused. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I am.”

“I’ve noticed that you’re never really still,” Anduin said, brushing his thumb along the sharp line of her cheekbone. “It’s like you’re vibrating.”

“That’s exactly what it’s like. It drives me crazy,” she admitted. “So I do things to try and ease it.”

“Fighting and fucking,” he said with a quirky smile. “I think I’ve seen you completely calm only a handful of times, really. Once was when you were in the nexus, but even then your body kept trying to recover, to keep active. The other times were all after you spent the day fighting and the night having sex, and then you’d sleep like you were dead.” He inhaled sharply. “You’re not allowed to die,” he said, his expression suddenly fierce. “If that’s what you’re chasing, you’re not allowed. Not until we’re both at least seventy years old and Alaric is King.”

She chuckled and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “I’m not going to die tomorrow,” she soothed. “I’m just going to have a fun time. Promise.”

“Good,” Anduin replied, easing against her when she slipped her hands under his shirt to run her hot, rough palms over his skin. He exhaled, relaxed and leaned his weight into her solid body and let her massage some more of the tension out of him.

When it came time for bed, which Luciana marked because she noticed Anduin’s eyelids drooping even as he tried to keep reading through trade reports, they were both silent. Anduin was too tired to really talk, and it wasn’t unusual, but Luciana was thinking and they weren’t thoughts she wanted to verbalize. She was worried how he would actually take seeing her let her fury out fully. She was worried she’d scare him, to the point where he wouldn’t want to get close to her anymore. She expected fear - there wasn’t any other way to respond to someone like her, not really, not when she was in that state. She could only hope Anduin could move past that instinctual fear.

He climbed into bed first. She listened to his heartbeat slow, hyper aware of everything in the darkened room. When his breaths were slow and shallow, she undressed and moved to get into bed next to him. She paused at the edge of the mattress, hand holding the duvet to pull it back. She watched him, entranced by the simple up and down movement of his side. He preferred to sleep on his left side, though sometimes he’d turn in the night to lie on his back.

She felt as though she could pass the night watching him, counting his breaths. It was so simple a thing, but she felt suddenly as though she were an invader, interrupting his private space. She wanted him to reach a hand out, pull her in. She felt incapable of getting into the bed, of getting into his space, into the space they usually shared without issue. She didn’t want to intrude. She didn’t want to wake him to ask for him to reach out. She felt inadequate, now - why did she always need him to reach out to her? Why could she not move past this on her own? How immature was she, that she couldn’t do what she’d done thousands of times before? That she couldn’t even wake him to ask for help?

She released the duvet and stepped back. She knew she should just get into bed and rest, like he was. She knew he had been expecting her to when he’d fallen asleep, assured she’d join him in short order. She was frozen, unsure. It was not a comfortable sensation. She was always sure of herself. She always had a plan. She always knew what to do.  
She thought of her squadron. She knew they’d all tell her, in their own way, to just get into bed and sleep. She thought of Victoria. Just do it, the woman would say. That empty space? The side of the bed he left clear? That’s where you’re supposed to be.

“Anduin,” Luciana said softly. He stirred, hadn’t yet entered a deep sleep and so a moment later he breathed deeply and was awake.

“Luciana?” he mumbled, and turned onto his back to look at her. “What are you doing?” he asked around a sleepy mouth. He reached up and stretched, rubbed his face with one hand and used the other to gesture her forward loosely. “Come to bed,” he said.

She didn’t move. “I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked, letting his arms flop onto the bed. His brow furrowed and he blinked a few times. “Why not?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” He shifted and pulled until he was on her side of the bed, and pulled the duvet back. “Come to bed,” he tried again, and patted the soft sheets where she should have been laying.

“I can’t.”

“Okay.” He moved more, until he was sitting upright, feet on the floor. He was wearing half of his pyjamas, nice navy satin pants, but the shirt was always left behind in favour of a loose white tank top. He opened his arms and motioned for her to come closer, right into him. She shuffled forward and he gripped her hips and kept her moving forward until she was flush against him, until he could lean his head into her stomach. “Come to bed?” he asked.

“I can’t.”

“Okay.” He touched her like he was mapping her body, like he hadn’t done it a thousand times before when they were both wearing much less, when much more skin was available. Somehow, this felt more intimate. His hands came to rest, eventually, on the backs of her thighs. “Lay down with me,” he murmured. “In the bed. Come and lay down with me for a while.”

She leaned down, hands on the sides of his heads, to press her nose into his hair that tumbled past his shoulders, loose and wavy. She inhaled deeply, exhaled and inhaled again, taking in his scent. It was never enough, for her. Honeysuckle and spice tea with milk, dry wood and sleep-mussed sheets, something fiery and clean. He had such a complex scent with so many layers and different aspects to it that sometimes it made her head spin. She remembered how he’d described her scent, once, something that he picked up with his weak human senses. He’d said she was clean, like dark soil and petrichor and fresh water. Fertile things, things needed for life to flourish. The thought comforted her when she needed it.

Luciana let one arm fall to rest around the back of his shoulders. The other went to his hair and her fingers curled into the soft, messy tresses. She brushed her fingers through his hair and tucked a lock behind his ear. It fell back to his face a moment later, and she smiled lopsidedly.

“Come to bed,” Anduin murmured. She could feel how tired he was in the way he slumped against her.

“Sorry for waking you,” she said.

“Thank you for waking me,” he replied, “and for letting me help you.”

She felt her throat tighten and she blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Let’s go to bed,” she said softly.

He made room for her again and she curled up on her side so she could watch his side rise and fall with each breath. She didn’t sleep much that night. She didn’t need it, not yet, because she’d rested well the night before and she hadn’t had a particularly hard day. When he started to make noise, when his heart skipped and he started to have a nightmare of some sort, she pressed against his back and hummed. She sang a soothing melody, letting the vibrations of her deep voice lull him back into a deep, restful sleep.


	10. Buffs, Please

Pop was the first one up in the morning and his cold, wet nose woke Luciana with a start. She sat up quickly, ready, and he huffed a complaint at her for the sudden movement. It had disturbed his position atop the bed, between her and Anduin, and she growled a threat. The wolf-dog laid his ears back and ducked his head and yawned in a calming gesture, and wagged his tail slowly in apology, licking his nose. She gave his head a pat to acknowledge it and he stood, stretched, and clambered over Anduin to get off the bed.

He mumbled when the wolf-dog’s paws tread on his legs and stirred, waking slowly. “Morning,” Luciana greeted, reaching over to rub between his shoulder blades. In response, Anduin rolled onto his back, yawned, and stretched languidly.

“Hey,” he responded finally with a sleepy smile. He wasn’t yet fully awake. Luciana leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Breakfast here yet?”

“No, but Four should be here soon with my leathers. I only told him to go and give them my measurements, but you know how he is.”

“Mm, they’re all like that,” Anduin sighed, rolling onto his stomach and in the process, rolling close to her. “Part of the job description, I think.”

“I have no issue with this,” Luciana replied with a smile as she watched him.

As predicted, Four arrived with breakfast and a heavy satchel full of hastily altered reinforced armour. The leather was fully black, as Luciana had requested, and worked to a proper level of suppleness. “Thank you, Four,” she said with a brief smile, taking the satchel from him.

He bowed his head. “Your Highness,” he said shortly, and took his leave when she waved him off.

She ate hurriedly, shoving as much food as she could into her mouth as quickly as she could, and Anduin laughingly told her to slow down before he had to clear her airways.

It gave her time to inspect the new armour before dressing. All it would take was one slipup, one mistake, and she could lose a limb to a feral worgen. The last thing she wanted was to be infected, however well the Gilneans managed it. She didn’t want to imagine what she’d be like as a worgen. She already had being a berserker to worry about, to control. She didn’t want to add feral fury into the mix.

The armour held up to the standards she’d expect from an expert craftsman, despite the subtle differences between pieces that showed they’d been taken from different sets. It didn’t matter. As long as the armour did its job, its appearance wasn’t such a big deal. The matte black dye would help her hide in the shadows of the perpetually dark forest. Beyond that, it wasn’t important.

When she was fully dressed, she pulled the helm over her short hair. It had wide eye slits so that it wouldn’t block her peripheral vision, and sturdy leather crests over her skull to protect it from the long claws of the worgen.

“How do I look?” she asked, holding her arms out so Anduin could inspect her.

“Quite scary,” he responded with a smirk. “I’m not sure I shouldn’t be calling for my guards.”

There was an edge to his smirk that she liked, and she sauntered towards him slowly, playing with the edge of her left gauntlet. “Well,” she said lowly, eyeing him from behind her helm that shadowed her face. “I wonder if there’s something I can do to reassure you?”

They didn’t have long before Jillian would come up to fetch them for their expedition into the forest. It never took much to get Luciana riled up and Anduin was ever eager to match that. She let him figure out the straps and pieces of her armour and when he had enough off she leaned back against the table and pressed her thighs together and waited.

“Lucy,” Anduin started. She raised her chin and inhaled deeply, scenting him. His scent had thickened, gone from honeysuckle to syrup, dry wood to damp moss, and his pupils were two wide black circles in his eyes. His hands were cool against her overheated skin, and she waited. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked as Light suffused her. It started at her thighs, went up to her hips and in and then up, all the way to her head where it felt like it settled into the base of her skull and swamped her.

It cooled her slightly and she relaxed and let Anduin spread her legs again. She smiled lazily when she felt his tip press up against her and looked back at him. “Alright?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered, and pressed against her and into her, stiff and hot.

It was a lovely way to start the day, and it left a pleasant tingle from her thighs to her stomach. It also made her blood pump hard through her veins and by the time she was redressed and Anduin was ready to go, she wanted to break things in the most wonderful way.

She grew impatient, but held herself back while the others finished prepping. They checked each other’s gear, checked the maps and the food and the water and the weapons, and then paused while Anduin called a blessing onto each of them in turn. He could have done it as a group, but he was the kind of priest who preferred to do it individually when he could.

He reached Luciana last, and this time he simply raised his hand, palm towards her. He didn’t need to read from his book of prayers, ever chained at his hip. “Light bless you, and keep you,” he said. “Let it keep you, and follow it home when the battle is done.” He followed it with a word she didn’t recognize. It must have been Old Arathi, a mostly lost language that still had some use in the holy scriptures of the Light.

It was a Power Word, and she felt a familiar Light, a familiar sort of firm reassurance race over her skin. A blessing of fortitude, she identified. She smiled briefly, knowing he wouldn’t see it past her helm.

She turned to face the group. “We’re going out there to kill feral worgen,” she said. “We’ll send them back to the Emerald Dream, where they can’t hunt down our neighbours, our cousins in Darkshire. We’re out here to protect our kingdom, to protect its people and its interests.” Her control on her fury was already slipping, anticipation making it hard to keep it under wraps like she usually would. She could see some of it reflected in Jillian’s lupine eyes, in Teagan’s hard grip on his sword hilt, in Four’s hefting of his shield, on Victoria’s hard face. This was her hometown, Luciana remembered suddenly. Of course she’d want in on the action.

A shiver of excitement ran up Luciana’s spine. “To the hunt,” she snarled. “We’ll take them out one by one, until none are left of the Emerald Hills pack.”

Her words, spoken with growing bloodlust, seemed to inspire the group. The guides took the lead quickly and Luciana let them, moving to the back of the group to pick up the rear. They seemed to know where they were going, and when Jillian’s nose worked and her ears perked up Luciana lifted her chin to scent the air. Fur. Blood. Death. Feral worgen.  
“We’re close,” Jillian growled.

“Good,” Luciana responded, grinning viciously. She couldn’t see it, but Jillian seemed to sense it regardless and returned it toothily. “Teagan, Jillian, and Anduin, with Dirk. Four, Victoria, you’re with me and Lira. Split.”

The group split in half easily and they flowed in opposite directions. The plan was a basic pincer movement: each team would hit the pack from a different side, driving a wedge between them and splitting them into smaller, more easily dispatched groups. They’d meet in the middle and form a healer circle with Anduin and Jillian in the center, and when the pack was scattered to the wind, their alphas hopefully already slain, they’d each chase after their own targets and meet back at their starting point within two hours of splitting.

With an alpha down, the rest of the pack would likely flee in complete terror. Killing an alpha was, to a feral worgen, next to impossible. Seeing them fall would break their bloodlust, but also their ability to form coherent thought, and leave them as easy targets for the hunting party.

All of that stopped mattering to Luciana when she spotted her targets. Worgen were hard to kill. They were agile and impossibly fast, mean, and built to kill and eat all sorts of things. But they weren’t built to deal with Luciana.

“To battle!” she roared, raising Oathkeeper high. Four let out a matching bellow and charged with her into a group of worgen, who’d left their flank exposed out in the open field. Victoria slowed down, bringing her rifle up to bear while Pop snarled and darted into the fray next to Luciana.

“Fuck you!” she screamed, and then she laughed as she swung her blade. She knew the statistics, knew how fast the worgen were moving - but she was moving faster, she could predict their movements and duck and dodge and parry them all. A familiar haze started to numb her. She knew it was her fury that was descending into a berserk state, and she didn’t resist, let it settle in her skull and send fire into her limbs. 

“Berserk!” Victoria called, warning the others in Luciana’s party.

“Roger!” Four’s voice echoed. Everything else was muted, covered by the sound of rushing blood in her ears.

She snarled, swung around and decapitated a worgen. She followed through and cut into another’s face, heard it scream-yelp in pain and then stabbed into its gut faster than it could retreat.

“Keep moving!” Victoria’s voice broke through the haze, and Luciana glanced over. Her soldier was beckoning her further. Luciana followed because her soldier was beckoning her into more foes, more targets, more blood and breakable bones. Luciana grinned lopsidedly, dodged the worgen that tried to leap onto her back from a tree and spun to stab it in the neck, and then she turned to follow Victoria.

Luciana lay about her with her sword, struck out with her left hand to grab limbs or skulls and squeeze them, crush them. Bones snapped like raw carrots in her hand. Feral worgen screamed and she smiled, open-mouthed, wishing she could bite them, fill her mouth with blood. Her helm was in the way. She yanked it off, tossed it aside and when a worgen’s hand wrapped around her face from the back she bit, took off two furred fingers. She grabbed the worgen’s side from behind, fingers digging into its skin, past its skin into its muscle, and spun and threw it into another worgen that was charging.

She licked her teeth, screamed and leaped into a crowd of furred bodies. She heard, faintly, Four’s voice. He was calling for her to keep moving, to follow the plan she’d made. She turned on him and snarled. She had things here to kill. But his voice called again and she huffed, looked around. There weren’t as many breakables here. She’d keep moving, then. He was promising her more targets. That would do.

As a group they kept moving. The worgen were realizing that Luciana was the biggest threat, the thing that would keep killing them unless they stopped her, and she reveled in the struggle, the scratches that appeared on her face, along her chin, splitting her armour and letting out her singing blood.

With a bellow she tossed off two of them, stabbed another and swung and cut into one’s torso, nearly cutting it in half. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, sending thick blood through her veins, turning her breaths into pants and she _loved_ it, she felt _alive_.

“Let me break you!” she screamed-laughed, reaching out to grab a worgen’s lower jaw and yanking down, snapping its neck. She threw the limp corpse into an approaching enemy and it yelped and tumbled away, and she jumped on it to take its neck and squeeze, shake, squeezing and shaking. Its head rattled around like Roger Foil’s head and she reveled in it.

The memory of Roger Foil snapped at her and she snarled, shook her head sharply to get rid of it. She had more important things to think about. To remember. There was a plan, she reminded herself. She was supposed to keep moving. But there were things, here, she could kill. They would come to her. But Anduin would be waiting for her to follow the plan, to form the healer circle. She rolled her weight back, from her knees to her feet and when she was in a crouch, she glanced around. New target, coming up on Victoria’s six. Luciana roared a challenge and leaped, bringing the flat of Oathkeeper’s blade down on its back and breaking the spine. It howled and Luciana brought Oathkeeper back up, then back down to break its back in a second place.

“Scream,” she growled. “Scream!” A third break.

“Keep moving!” Victoria’s voice reminded her. Pop’s eyes flashed in the corner of Luciana’s vision. “Keep moving! We’ll meet up in the glade! Keep moving!”

Keep moving, keep moving, “Keep moving,” Luciana growled, irritated, but Victoria was right. Anduin would be there, and that meant Luciana was supposed to be there. She couldn’t leave him exposed, she couldn’t leave her light exposed, a strong wind could blow out even a sheltered fire and she didn’t want it to be dark again. Bad things lived in the dark.

Jillian’s howl summoned them to the glade, and Luciana raised her head and screamed, letting out an answering, furious call. Anduin was there. The wolf called. She would come.  
“Come and die,” she snarled, grinning with bloody teeth. “Come and die!”

“Berserk!” Victoria called again as they ran through the underbrush, the way barely lit with moonlight, and this time she was right. Anduin was in sight, now, and there were feral worgen near him, and Luciana saw his Light shimmer in a powerful Shield that kept them back but he couldn’t hold it forever, and it was _not allowed_ he would not be hurt.

In silence, Luciana’s run turned into a sprint, and then she was airborne for a moment in a powerful leap and her full weight came crashing down on a worgen that threatened her light. Nothing would extinguish her light. There would not be dark again.

Nothing else but the blood mattered. Her blood screamed at her. _Let me be shed_ , it told her. _Let me break them_. She had blood and dust in her mouth and she rolled her tongue over the roof of her mouth, sampling the iron. There was a breakable thing coming up on her right. She spun, eyes wide and bright, and met its grasping clawed hands with her own, dropping Oathkeeper to meet the challenge.

She screamed her rage wordlessly, laughed when she was cut, bit and struck and grabbed and squeezed at every exposed bit of flesh. She tore a chunk of fur from its chest and its great maw snapped at her face. She held it back with one arm, one unrelenting arm, the other unforgiving as it reached out and grabbed. It grabbed the worgen’s throat, the alpha’s throat, and squeezed and pulled. She tore out its throat, bathing in its blood and laughing and screaming and kept pulling, kept grabbing and pulling. There was so much of it. So much blood, so many little bits to pull at. She kept pulling.

It stopped moving and she lost interest, tossed it aside like a broken doll. There were other moving things, more breakable things, for her to grab. She cast around for a new target, something to _Oathkeeper_ it glimmered in the moonlight, called out and sang to her. _Wield me. Keep your oath. Let me bleed things._ She snatched it from the bloody grass as she ran by and used it as the worgen used their claws, cutting and tearing and stabbing into weak flesh.

“They’re scattering!”

Jillian’s growling voice bit into Luciana’s mind and she whipped around to stare, wide-eyed and crazed, at the worgen. Worgen. Enemy. But she wasn’t feral. Luciana was here to break worgen. Jillian was not feral.

Light trickled down her spine, cooling the fevered skin, and she exhaled sharply as though the air had been punched out of her. Her eyes flickered from one target to the next. Jillian, she wasn’t supposed to break Jillian.

She turned, seeing the worgen scattering to the wind, and howled a challenge, a raging how dare you and followed them. It was so easy to run in the forest. Her pace was smooth, unchallenged by underbrush, craggy ground or low-reaching trees. She moved quickly, and when her feet hit flat ground she sprinted, caught up almost immediately with a gaggle of retreating lupine forms that flowed over the forest floor and cut into them. When one got too close to her hand she grabbed its neck, yanked it towards her and then threw it, making another worgen stumble and trip and fall. That one, too, died in her grasping hand.


	11. Victoria

Luciana lost track of where she was. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nothing did, nothing except her blood that demanded movement, action, death, breaking bones and gasped last breaths. It demanded everything from her and she gave, gave, bellowed and gave. Where the stream of targets went, she followed, picking out one or two or four and destroying them, flaying them and spilling organs and blood before finding new ones to bite into, to tear at. Tear at the skin, open it up and reveal the things underneath, things that trailed feral cursed blood when Luciana pulled at them and squeezed and shook and hit with a fist that fell like thunder.

The worgen went and she followed. When she fell upon a clump of them, she fell hard. One was crushed under her heel. Another fell to her left hand. Two were opened up with Oathkeeper’s mithril edge. One more... One more was not worgen.

“Luciana.”

Luciana cocked her head. That was not a worgen. That was a human, not-a-target, but Luciana could still break it. No, she couldn’t. That was Victoria. That was Victoria’s scent in Luciana’s face and she sniffed at it. Victoria, blood. That was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to break Victoria so why was she bleeding?

“Luce, they. The.”

She couldn’t breathe. Luciana could hear it rattling, the fear closing Victoria’s airways. Her legs were broken. Luciana looked at them. They were bitten and torn. Worgen. Feral worgen had bitten Victoria. They had infected her.

Luciana brought up Oathkeeper and Victoria cried out, and then Luciana brought Oathkeeper down and she screamed and it grated at Luciana’s ear and she snarled, silencing the scream.

Victoria was her kiddo. Luciana paused, was still for only a moment. Victoria was her kiddo. A squad mate. She would need help. Luciana removed the horn attached to her belt and tossed it down. Victoria could call for help with that. Luciana had things to break. Luciana needed to break things. The animal in her gut had climbed up into her throat and it roared. Luciana had things to hunt.

Luciana followed the stream. It had led her to good things so far and she would follow it until it dried up. Worgen died so easily, she found. All it took was a _grab_ or a _cut_ and they bled or broke, and both of those were good things. Luciana ran with them, their scents and sounds overwhelming anything else that might have come to her. It didn’t matter. The blood in her teeth mattered. The bones she tore out of them mattered. That was important. The fighting, the running, the can’t-get-a-breath was important.

An alpha, finally, came to her. It howled, challenged her, and she howled and challenged it and met its claws with her own, its rabid bright eyes and snapping teeth with her own. It tossed her, rolled with her as it tried to get its rear paws to her stomach to gut her and she laughed breathlessly and tried to grab at its throat, its stomach, its weaknesses. She got a hold of its fur and tore out a chunk even as it bit into her forearm. She tore her arm out of its mouth and then shoved it back in, shoved her fist into its throat. She felt its tongue working, its throat closing up. And kept pushing, used her other hand to pull its skull forward further, and then she tried to grab at its slippery throat. It pulled away, got away. She followed.

It leaped at her and she let it hit her, rolled with its weight and got on top of it. She let it bite her again, let it grab her so she could grab it and pull. Her fingers dug into and then through its skin, exposed its ribs. It screamed and left her ears ringing even as she pulled, yanked, broke its ribs off and tossed them and grabbed at the slippery lungs and pulled those out, too.

It stopped moving soon, and she stopped caring about it. A worgen hit her from the side, sending her sprawling across the grass. She bellowed in outrage, how dare it distract her from her prize, that was her kill Light dammit. It died soon after.

Luciana got to her feet. It was silent, the forest. There was no activity around her. The stream had run dry. She cast about for its trail, but it was empty now, and she stilled, listened to the forest. There was nothing, no target, no breakable things. Her posture eased from a crouch to a cautious, hunched stand, and then to a straight back with her head up. She sniffed. Nothing. She looked around, and still there was nothing.

Oathkeeper gleamed like a white fang in the moonlight. It was bloodied, like her fangs, and she smiled.

There was a shadow, in the corner of her eye. She looked over, expecting a worgen. Her light stood in the shadow of a tree, his eyes bright with Light, his hands bloody.  
“Luciana.”

His voice was quiet. It brushed against her ear like soft sheets. She cocked her head, turned towards him. Anduin. She stumbled towards him, a few steps at a time.

“Lucy?”

She listened, raised her nose and smelled. Nothing was coming to them. No danger, no threat, not right now.

“Lucy, what did you do?”

She looked at him again. She smelled him, fiery and clean and familiar, and around that was a tang of metal and cold. Fear. Anduin was afraid. There was no threat, though, nothing coming at them. He was afraid of her.

“Lucy? Can you even hear me?”

Her breathing was slowing from its frenzied pace. Her heart, too, was slowing. She could hear the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. It was cold out tonight and it bit at her exposed skin.

“Luciana, please. Can you say something?”

She blinked. She was closer to him now. She could hear his heart beating in his ribcage. His breath was dry in his throat - he’d been running, had lost his breath and hadn’t regained it quickly enough.

“Luciana?”

She was close to him now, close enough that she could lean forward and put her mouth on the pulse point in his neck, feel the blood coursing and smell his skin. She didn’t move - he hadn’t welcomed her, and she couldn’t move.

He didn’t call her again, not for the longest time. The fear in his scent stuck out at her. Why was he afraid of her? What had she done to make him afraid of her? Why had she done it? How could she do it? She wasn’t supposed to break her kiddos, and she wasn’t supposed to smother her light.

His hands were cool on her cheeks when he reached out and her eyes wanted to close. When he stepped forward and pulled at her, she leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder, pressed her nose into her neck and breathed deeply. His hands were weighty on her back but the Light was cool, was calm. She felt like she was floating in a still lake. She couldn’t differentiate between her flesh and the water - there was no barrier, nothing between them, and they were one and the same for a few brief moments.

“Lucy. It’s enough. You’ve done enough. You can stop now.”

She exhaled, and closed her eyes. Anduin’s heart beat was calling to her. He smelled like home. 

His Light danced over her skin, playful and teasing despite his fear. It knew she wouldn’t hurt him. She was glad for that. The itchiness on her neck eased as the cuts were mended, and her arm stopped burning when his hand brushed over it. Her back stopped screaming when his Light sank into her flesh, soothing it and repairing it. Her knee stopped wanting to buckle when Anduin’s Light reached it, and he healed it while his hands were still gently brushing through her blood-matted hair.

“Luciana, can you say something?”

“Anduin,” she breathed.

“Lucy.” He smiled against her bare shoulder. Her armour must have been torn open at some point. “You went off on your own. I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. His hand trailed down her arm, and came to rest on her hip. “Are you calm now? Well, I supposed I shouldn’t ask that,” he said laughingly. “Are you out of your berserk state?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to fall back into it?”

“No. Not if you stay.”

“If I hold your hand, will you stay out of it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Good. We need to get back to the others,” he told her, backing away, but as promised his hand stayed in hers. “Victoria is very badly hurt. We have to get her back to Darkshire, as fast as possible. I did what I could but I had other people to look after, and she needs extensive and constant care.”

“What happened?”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember,” she confirmed, speaking slowly, softly. “I don’t keep track of things when I’m berserking.”

“You cut off her legs, Lucy,” he said quietly.

It took her a moment to respond. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. She can’t tell us right now. She was in shock, still, when I left her with the others. That’s why we need to get her back to Darkshire. We’ll find out,” he soothed, reaching up to brush Light-touched fingertips against the underside of her chin. “Let’s get back.”

She followed him.


	12. Shadewhisper

Victoria looked peaceful now, at least, despite the paleness of her skin. Normally it was a beautiful brown-onyx, like a Bronzebeard ceremonial cannon. What stuck out were her sallow cheeks, normally round and merry and always smiling, and the sweat that beaded her forehead.

Luciana had taken the seat next to her bed, hunched over, bracing her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped before her. She’d been there for a while, but the exact number of minutes, hours perhaps, was lost on her. She tried not to look at the space where Victoria’s legs should have lifted the duvet, made a mound. Her heart wanted to skip, stop, whenever she did.

“I don’t know how you can live with this,” Jillian said lowly. Luciana glanced over to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“It was better than the alternative.” Luciana would not, could not regret this. She had never wanted to hurt her own squad mates. It was worse than hurting herself, worse than leaving her sisters behind. But she could not regret it. “I would have had to kill her if I’d waited for the curse to catch up with her blood pressure.”

“What kind of life can she lead now, without her fucking legs?” Jillian growled, stalking forward. Luciana could see she wanted to shift forms, but that would have been a threat and no one was sure how to act around Luciana right now. They’d all seen her crazed bloodlust, her disregard for anything but breaking the worgen. She’d nearly attacked Jillian, too, until Anduin had interfered, sent his Light to remind her that Jillian was not her foe.

“At least she has a chance to live one,” Luciana replied. She didn’t rise to the bait Jillian was dangling in front of her. Luciana had calmed from her berserk state hours ago, but she still felt on edge, as though all would it take was one errant thought and she’d be wild again. “She can live whatever life she chooses. The House will take care of her. Desmond will see to that.”

“ _You_ will see to that,” Jillian said.

“Of course I will,” Luciana sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You know what? Both of you can go. To the manor, I mean. She’ll need someone to take care of her until she... can adjust,” Luciana said. She’d almost said _get her feet under her_ but that wouldn’t have come across well at all. She imagined Victoria would have a laugh about that, if Luciana told her about it. Maybe not now. Maybe in a few weeks.

“You cut off her legs,” Jillian said softly. Luciana could see the sorrow in the line of her shoulders but she knew Jillian wouldn’t welcome her comfort. Not anymore. Not with Luciana’s seemingly callous disregard for Victoria’s state. “And you left her to bleed out in the dirt. Luciana, how could you do that?”

“I was going to leave her to die,” Luciana replied evenly. “I didn’t care about her then, Jillian. I don’t care about anything when I’m berserking. You, a worgen of all people, should be able to understand that. But Victoria is my kiddo. I couldn’t let her get infected. So I cut off the infection before it could spread.”

“And you left her!”

“I gave her the horn. She could call for help.”

“She was nearly dead. She nearly died,” Jillian choked.

“But she didn’t. And she can live without the curse, as a human instead of a feral worgen. What other options were there, Jillian?” Luciana asked, her eyes hard. She could not regret this, because the alternatives were worse. Before, when she’d made the cut, she hadn’t really thought beyond curse bad. But now, after, when she had her full thought processes under control, she could reason. She knew she’d made the right choice. She knew she wouldn’t change it. “Leave her to bleed to death slowly, or leave her to get infected, or wait until the curse set in her heart and then what? Kill her as a feral? No, Jillian. I made the only acceptable choice.”

“You cut off her fucking legs! How is she supposed to hunt with us if she ain’t got any legs?” Jillian cried, her hand flying out to gesture wildly at Victoria. “What the fuck’s she supposed to do now?”

“You’ll wake her,” Luciana warned, hearing Victoria’s heart flutter into a faster beat. Jillian’s jaw clenched, and for a few tense moments they were both silent, Luciana’s head cocked towards Victoria. When her heart calmed, Luciana spoke. “I will not lose any of my squad members to the curse. I would not let them fall to it when I could stop it. You can be angry with me all you like, Jillian. In fact, I welcome it. Be angry with me. Scream and rage, and let it all out. When Victoria wakes, she’ll need you to be calm and patient with her. Be angry, but I will not regret my decision and I will not apologize for it.”

For a moment, Luciana was sure Jillian was going to shift and charge her. But, the woman turned on her heel and disappeared into the dark hall, and Luciana sighed. She felt bad. She felt terrible. But she couldn’t let herself regret cutting off Victoria’s legs. She’d saved the woman’s life, given her a chance to keep living without a curse, without the wild fury all worgen had.

Luciana knew it was partially her fault it had happened. She’d been the one to order the small strike force. With backup, with more numbers, perhaps Victoria wouldn’t have fallen alone to the worgen. But, maybe more people would have. Maybe they would have lost Darkshire people to the curse.

Don’t regret this, Anduin had told her. You made your choice. You cannot regret it - you are a leader, and leaders cannot hesitate when it comes to things like this. It was something she’d already known, but it was still hard. It had always been hard. When she’d had them pack up Michael’s mangled corpse into a bag and keep moving, it had been hard. When she’d hidden Frederic’s true fate from the rest of the world, it had been hard. This was hard, too. It weighed on her. But it was a burden she was willing to bear. Jillian would adjust to it, in time. Maybe she’d never forgive Luciana, but she would come to understand when her emotions weren’t running so high.

“Your Highness?” Teagan was in the doorway. He’d kept his footsteps silent. “There’s a healer here for Victoria.”

“Who are they?”

“A night elf, Princess,” he said. He kept his voice down. She appreciated it. She also appreciated that he didn’t pay any heed to her tired, hunched form, or the clench of her jaw, or the wetness in her eyes. “Druid. He says he’s not recently healed any major injuries, but he’s spent centuries healing and he specialized in lost limbs. Isendir Shadewhisper is his name. He’s been living here in Darkshire for the wards for a few years now and he says he can take care of the traces of the curse in her system.”

“Bring him up. Warn him that I’m still on edge.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Teagan bowed at the waist and excused himself silently. He returned minutes later with a night elf in tow, a tall, slim male with short dark green hair and dark purple skin.

“Your Highness, Isendir Shadewhisper,” Teagan announced in a soft voice.

“Greetings, Princess Luciana,” the night elf intoned. He had a deep, smooth voice that brought to mind the creaking of ancient boughs in gentle winder winds.

“Come in,” she sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her great chest. She waved him forward and he approached on silent feet. She looked down. He had his feet wrapped in leathers, but it left his toes bare. He had dark claws in place of nails. Perhaps, she thought, he was a Druid of the Claw. She looked at his hands. They, too, had claws, but they were trimmed down and if they weren’t black they’d look like regular fingernails. “You can rout out the remains of the curse?”

“Yes It acts quite like a virus in small quantities, and I have grown quite familiar with it over the past few years,” he murmured, eyes on Victoria’s prone form. “I will pull back the sheet,” he said quietly before pulling it back slowly.

He told Luciana what he was going to do before he did it, giving her ample warning to stop him if he was going to do something she didn’t approve of. It was a wise move, considering how precious Victoria was to Luciana. You never wanted a warrior to feel you were abusing someone precious to them. It was a dangerous position to put yourself in.

“The healing done to her legs was hurried,” Isendir commented. “But very well done.”

“Anduin staunched the bleeding,” Luciana explained.

“I see. He is quite gifted, then, in healing.”

“He is.”

Isendir nodded almost absently. Luciana noticed his ears twitched up, and a moment later she heard why. Someone was coming up the stairs. Her hearing was still quite sensitive, she thought, probably from the earlier fighting.

Teagan was, again, in the doorway. “There’s a messenger from Stormwind,” he said quietly, “bearing the Royal Crest.”

“Send them in.”

Anduin was occupied elsewhere, she supposed. Otherwise they would have sent the messenger to him. Or perhaps he’d deflected them to her. It would distract her, surely, for at least a few minutes.

“Your Highness,” the messenger greeted when they arrived in Victoria’s recovery room. They bowed low, and held out a sealed envelope thick with papers. “From His Royal Majesty.”

“Give it here,” Luciana said, waving the woman forward. She eagerly approached and handed over the envelope. Luciana broke the seal, shuffled through the papers and read them while Isendir kept his healing magic flowing. It was a calm, bright green, and whispered audibly over Victoria’s flesh. It sounded almost like leaves brushing her skin.

“Go to the Prince,” Luciana said quietly. “I need him for a meeting. Private. Warn the guards that I will personally deal with any who dare interrupt us.” She rose from her chair, and cast a warning glare at Isendir. “If anything goes wrong, I will hold you accountable. If you feel unsure, leave now.”

“I will continue my work,” he said softly, bowing his head in acquiescence. “I am confident in my abilities.”

“Good. Find the Royal Guards when you’re done, and give them the full summary.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

She turned to the messenger. “I’ll be in the basement,” she said. “Fetch me the Prince.”

“Your Highness,” the woman said, eyes bright with excitement. She bowed hurriedly and rushed off to obey.


	13. Planning

The basement of their temporary abode was warmly furnished in browns and reds. Simple furniture was bathed in a friendly glow from the wide hearth that burned with a small fire, as well as the four torches lining the walls. In the center of the room was a wide table with comfortable chairs. On the back wall, a long and narrow table was tucked against the stone. Several armchairs and sofas were scattered throughout the room. Luciana took stock of it all, but hardly noticed it beyond that.

Anduin’s footsteps alerted her to his arrival, and he shut the door at the top of the stone staircase before descending into the room. “I assume this has to do with the messenger?” he said, approaching her with an easy gait. He was relaxed, despite the tension in her back and shoulders and face that warned of her still-roiling fury. It eased, slowly but surely, when his cool hands touched her bare arms, her neck. When he tilted her head up with gentle fingers his lips were soft on hers. “You’re still tense,” he murmured, letting her chin drop so he could lean their foreheads together.

“I will be until things stop coming at me,” she growled. “One Light-fucked thing after another.”

“That’s our life,” Anduin sighed with a wry smile. She was one of the only people he was familiar with that used that expression instead of the tamer one. He kissed her again, gently, like she was sleeping and he was trying not to wake her. “What was the message?”

“Hellfire Citadel has fallen,” she said.

Anduin leaned back, eyes wide. “To whom?”

“Combined forces of Alliance and Horde, as well as allies from various other factions,” she reported, and gestured to the center table. “It’s all there. And Varian sent you a letter, too. I didn’t read it,” she mentioned.

“You could have. Whatever he has to tell me, he can tell you.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, but she shrugged. After he read it, if he still thought that way, he’d let her know.

Anduin took the time to read through the messages carefully. He read the reports, the numbers, and then moved on to the private letter addressed to him.

His brow furrowed heavily while he read, and he reached up to brush his hair back. It fell right back down and Luciana pushed herself off the narrow table she’d been leaning against. She reached up, quietly untied his ponytail. She pulled his hair back away from his face with careful, rough fingers that caught the hair on calluses. When she was satisfied his ponytail would hold, she stepped back, and nearly stumbled when he turned his head to give her his soft-eyed smile for a moment.

Anduin didn’t mention the letter and she didn’t press when it disappeared from the pile of papers. He’d probably tucked it into one of his many coat pockets. “How is Victoria?” he asked, organizing the papers into neater stacks.

“Still asleep,” Luciana said. “A night elf druid volunteered to continue her healing. He must have overheard something from the guides when they went to report to Ebonlocke. He’s apparently familiar with the curse, and with lost limbs.”

“That’s good,” Anduin said. “I did my best, but I don’t have experience with that sort of thing. Not yet, anyway.”

“You could volunteer with relief efforts from the Citadel raid,” she suggested. “I’m sure they’ve got plenty of casualties being brought back to Stormwind as we speak.”

“We’re still here for ten days,” Anduin replied. “When we get back, I’ll go to the Cathedral. It’s where they’ll bring the worst of the injured.”

“And the dead,” Luciana added.

“Those, I will pray for,” Anduin told her. When he was satisfied with the way he’d filed the reports, he folded them and tucked them back into the wide envelope. He stilled for a moment, and then looked up at her. “When will you relax?” he asked.

“When I’m exhausted enough to sleep,” she grumbled. Her mouth was dry, and she rolled her tongue absently against the roof of her mouth. “I could, now, but I’m too tense.”

“How can I help?” he asked, straightening and approaching her. His fingers curled around her hips and she exhaled heavily and leaned back, letting his brace his weight against her. His chin came to rest on her shoulder, and Luciana rested her hands on the narrow table behind her that was leaned against the stone wall. She let her weight transfer to it, Anduin still pressed against her. His Light collected in his hands at her hips, and slowly fell down her legs and up her sides until it pooled in her calves and trickled down, and rested in her shoulders and climbed up. It loosened her, and her head lolled to the side, allowing Anduin to nose at the exposed skin. He pressed his lips to her neck twice, three, four times, and she smiled slightly.

“That’s a start,” she sighed.

“Do you need to eat now?” Anduin murmured against her skin. “It’s a bit past dinnertime, but Four’s already sent word to the tavern that they should sent us food for ten people.”

“That’s also a start.” His hair tickled her ear and she breathed a giggle and turned her head away from it. In response, Anduin leaned down to press a kiss to her collarbone, just beneath the faded horizontal scar that ran a thick track over her chest. He drew his lips across it, whisper-soft, until he reached the cloth of her shirt, and then he came back up to kiss her lips.

“Can you talk to me?” he asked softly, eyes intent on hers. The blue of his irises was intense, the colour of sapphires, and she hesitated. “About today?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you try?”

She blinked, looked down at his chin, swallowed, and spoke. “I don’t care about anything but breaking things when I’m like that,” she started. “Nothing matters, Anduin. Nothing. I just want to taste blood, I want to bite things, I want to rip them apart, I want to break bones and pull until their insides are outside. That’s all I want to do and I’m driven to it. When I’m still talking, screaming actual words, I can sort of think. I can follow a loose plan. But when I get quiet, even if it’s only for a minute, that’s when I really start.”

“I noticed that,” he said when she fell silent.

“Yeah. I almost attacked Jillian but you reminded me she was mine.”

“I noticed that, too.” His voice was even. “I’m not faulting you for that, Lucy,” he told her. “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and swallowed again. Her mouth was too dry. She needed more water than what she’d had earlier, on their return to Darkshire. She’d sweated herself into dehydration. “I didn’t care about Victoria, either, even when she called out to me, spoke to me. But I could still remember that... that she wasn’t supposed to be broken, I guess, she wasn’t supposed to be injured, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be my doing. I didn’t care about her, not then, I just knew that was wrong somehow. I knew the worgen bites were cursed, I knew that was wrong too, not supposed to happen, so I cut it off before it could reach her heart and kept moving.”

“You left her the horn,” Anduin supplied.

“Yeah. I...” she hesitated. “I’ve been told it’s amazing that I can still think while berserking. I don’t really think, per se, I just... I don’t know,” she said helplessly, looking away for a moment. Anduin’s hand cupped her neck and she sighed, looking back at his chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes. They were too bright, too intent on her. “I know when something is wrong. Not morally wrong, but... when it’s not supposed to be. Instinct. Victoria wasn’t supposed to be injured, so I reacted. And I don’t really know why, but it occurred to be that she’d need help. But I didn’t want to stop killing worgen so I left the horn so she could call others for help. I thought it would be enough.”

“She survived.”

“Barely. She nearly bled to death before you arrived.”

Anduin’s thumb brushed over her scarred jaw, bumping up when it hit the lines of scar tissue. He repeated the motion, soothing some phantom ache away from the old injury. “You don’t blame yourself for that,” he said quietly. He was sure of it. “You can’t. You were berserking. You went far beyond what anyone else could have possibly managed. It’s because of you that she’s alive.”

“It’s because of me that she was in that situation at all.”

“It’s because of her,” Anduin corrected gently. “And she’ll tell you the same thing, if you ask. She followed you because of her own conviction, her own loyalty, her own decisions. She trusts you to lead her well.”

“I lead her into this.”

“And you’ll lead her back out,” Anduin promised. “She’d follow you. I know Knights make an oath when they take up the mantle,” he said. “You must have made one to her?”

“Yeah, when she joined Amadeus.”

“And you always keep your oaths.”

“I’m not sure I kept this one.”

“I am.” She looked up, and he smiled softly. “And she’d tell you the same thing. She followed you voluntarily, and you let her. You led her. And you’ll keep leading her because she’ll keep following you.”

“How can you know that?” Luciana asked. “How can you know she won’t be angry? Betrayed?”

“Because I know you. You inspire people, Lucy. You inspire them to want to be better, and they can all see that if they follow you, they will be." He chuckled. "You tend to drag people into the waves you make when you pass through. But somehow, I believe, they always end up better for it. She won’t hate you,” he said firmly. There was no doubt, no question in his voice. “She’ll need to adjust, but she will not blame you for this.”

“Jillian does.”

“Jillian is a passionate woman, underneath all of those antisocial tendencies,” Anduin laughed. “She won’t forever. She’ll get through her anger and realize you were right to do what you did. What other options were there?” he asked. “Let Victoria become a feral worgen? Let her die? Let her turn, and then kill her yourself? No, there was only one acceptable outcome, and you did what you had to in order to achieve it, just like you do with anything else.”

“I was the one to bring her into a situation that made it necessary.”

“You can’t change the past, Lucy,” Anduin said. “No matter how much we might want to. All we can do is react to the present and prepare for the future. Maybe next time, when we hunt worgen, you’ll bring more people. Or maybe when we return to Stormwind we’ll put funds into research into inoculation against the curse. But that wouldn’t help Victoria when she was bitten.”

“Mangled,” Luciana supplied.

“Mangled,” Anduin repeated dutifully. “It wouldn’t have helped her then. Regret wouldn’t have done anything to help her. Only action would have, and you did what you had to in the present.”

“You’re awfully calm about it all,” Luciana said. “I got you all bloody. In the clearing, when I fell on you.”

“You didn’t fall on me,” he chuckled. “I hugged you. And yes, you did get me all bloody. It was a bit disgusting. You had bits of... something on you.”

“Lungs, I think,” she said.

He made a face, but couldn’t hold it and it turned into another soft smile. “You did what you had to, and I did what I had to.”

“It was the only acceptable outcome,” she murmured.

“And it was the same for me.”

“What?” she asked. “Getting bloody and gory?”

“No. Reaching out to you.” He fell silent for a moment, eyes slowly roving her face. “What would have happened if I hadn’t reached out and touched you?” he murmured. “What would you have done?”

She didn’t answer, and he smiled grimly.

“The only acceptable outcome was that you took my hand,” he said, “and came back to me. To yourself. So I did what was necessary.”

She nodded once, slowly, and he leaned forward to kiss her. She reached up to bury her hands in his hair. It messed up the ponytail she’d just made, but he didn’t seem to care about much beyond pressing close to her, holding her tightly to his slighter frame.

He didn’t release her, but he did let her breathe. “The Citadel,” she reminded after a moment to catch her breath. “Varian’s returning to Stormwind soon, with the wounded.”

“With Khadgar and Commander Celia, too,” Anduin added.

“Yes. We can get the full report from them.”

“... I think Father will step down soon,” Anduin said quietly.

“Probably.”

“I’m... afraid,” Anduin said, even quieter. Luciana’s ears picked up on it easily still.

“I am, too.”

“We’ll manage.”

“We will.” She gently cupped his face in her hands, meeting his gaze evenly. “We stand together, united, and we do what we must to achieve our goals. Varian will stand beside us, as will our advisors and allies.”

“And Wrathion,” he added with a humorous smile. “For a time, anyway.”

“And the black dragon,” she sighed.

“What are our goals?” Anduin asked. “What are your goals?”

“I want our people to be safe,” she answered slowly. “I want them to have room to grow, room to make mistakes and learn from them. I don’t want to coddle them - you can’t stay a child forever. But I want them to have a safe home to return to if anything really goes belly-up.”

“You want to be their parent,” he supplied with a smile. “A supportive parent.”

“Yes.” She returned the smile for a moment. “That’s what I’ve always strived to be for my squadron, beyond being their Knight. It’s what I want for my people. I want them to have a world where they can reach out, expand and learn and grow. I want them to be curious, alert, respectful, and I want a world where it’s possible to teach them that.”

“How would you achieve that?” he asked. “Past the Horde?”

“However I needed to,” she responded. “I don’t care so much about the methods. I care about the end results.”

“What about losses?”

“There are acceptable losses. There are unacceptable losses. For something so massive, I can’t tell you off the top of my head.”

“Would you be willing to lose lives?”

“No. They can’t learn and grow if they’re dead. But it will happen anyway. So I would minimize them.”

“What about land?”

“If it’s necessary, and to an extent. People need land to feed themselves, but they don’t need an excessive amount.”

“They need a balance,” he supplied.

“Yes.”

“Would you go to war, then, with the Horde?” he asked. “Fight them out of the Eastern Kingdoms?”

“To what end?” she replied. “More war? More death, and battle fatigue, and nightmares? No. Not if there’s an alternative. I’d rather let them have a few territories, and leave the rest alone, than try to claim it all. But if they were to try and take from us I’d fall on them with the fury of a thousand Legions.”

“And our allies? The night elves won’t want to give up anything to Orgrimmar, and Gilneas won’t entertain the thought of peace with the Forsaken.”

“Stormwind has the largest military, the most people, the most supplies and land,” Luciana pointed out. “They would show their displeasure, yes, but they wouldn’t risk losing our military support. The First Legion has draenei, worgen, and night elves scattered throughout it, and it would suffer if their leaders pulled them out, but we have six other regular Legions and three auxiliary Legions on standby, the Home Guard, our militias, and a massive number of champions and adventurers who are already organized into guilds. We’ll have to take pains not to hurt our allies, but whatever we decide, they won’t risk losing Stormwind’s support. Teldrassil doesn’t have the numbers to hold its own anymore, Gilneas needs us to reclaim their lands, the Pandaren don’t need us but they certainly could use the help, and the draenei... well, they’ll cooperate with whatever direction Velen takes them. They’re not as invested in particular territories as the others. As long as they have Azuremyst and places they can call home, they’ll be fine.”

“And the gnomes? The dwarves?” he asked. “They have their own military might, and the dwarves can hold grudges like no one’s business.”

“They’re also highly intelligent, and proud,” she said. “Moira would take the route most advantageous for her people. Wildhammer has lost much this past decade and would do anything to reclaim their former glory, including going to war under Stormwind’s banner if it came to that. Remember, they joined the Alliance fully only after our heroes in the Twilight Highlands came to their aid. And Bronzebeard? They’re not fools. They won’t be happy if we open negotiations, but if we include them in the talks they’ll ease up. And Gnomeregan is easier to please. Send reinforcements for their trogg infestation and supplies and people for repair, and give them opportunities to invent and study and rebuild, and they’re good to go.”

“We can give them new things to make,” Anduin said. “Beyond weapons.”

“Things like air travel,” Luciana supplied. “It’s faster than sea travel, but gryphons can’t fly for weeks on end. And biochanics. We need better technology for the soldiers who lose parts of themselves to war. They deserve to live life fully. The gnomes, I think, could find a solution for that.”

Anduin smiled. “And what about peace?” he asked. “What about the actual negotiations, and agreements?”

“I’m willing to go only as far as the Horde is,” she replied. “If they’re willing to talk, then I am as well. But if they only want to talk to take, then I will do the same. Our allies, of course, will have our ear.”

“That’s only fair,” he murmured.

“Is that what you want?” she asked. “Peace with the Horde?”

“I... I want peace,” he said slowly. “I want people to be able to wake up without fearing what great apocalypse the new day will bring. I don’t want to hear murmurs of fear of war, of new threats, of plagues and invaders and abject poverty and hopelessness. So much pain could be averted if we weren’t so dedicated to fighting the Horde. We could find peace with them. I know we could, if we reached out. If we put as much effort into repairing as we did into breaking.”

“We can do that,” she murmured. “It would take time. And I think, a lot of pain and frustration. But if they’re willing to talk, we can do that.”

“They’ll talk,” he said, but his voice wavered ever so slightly and she heard it, and squeezed him close to her for a moment. “After the Citadel, after Draenor, after everything that’s happened to Azeroth, they’ll talk.”

“After what was done to me, supposedly in their name.”

Anduin’s grip tightened. “Will you talk?”

“If you think it’s a good idea. Like I said, I don’t care about the methods, I care about the end result. You care about the methods.”

“Will you be able to talk?” he asked. “You won’t be paranoid and aggressive when you’re walking into a potential trap?”

“I might be. But I’m willing to give up a hell of a lot for my kingdom, Anduin, and I’d rather it be me again than you.”

Anduin was silent for a moment. “They’ll talk,” he said quietly. “If they see you’re willing to, even knowing that the blame for your torture is on them, they’ll talk.”

"People lie," she said softly. "We know Roger Foil likely lied to try and save his skin. How do we know the ones that held me didn't create a scenario to make me think the Horde was my only great enemy?"

"What's important is that you think it was the Horde behind those things," Anduin replied. "And when they see you're willing to move past that, they'll talk."

“Not to Varian,” she said. “Not to the old generation.”

“We’re a new generation now, Lucy,” Anduin reminded her. “And with us comes change.”


	14. Alphas Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking of written a few side pieces. About the Darkshire Deathsworn and the Westfall Shadow Watchers, at least. Maybe if there's any interest I'll start posting what I've written about Helliah Shadowstep's story. There's some good shit in there. Lots of dragons.

Luciana slept after she ate. She slept deeply, for nearly twelve hours, and then she woke ravenous and dried out. She ate more, drank what seemed like three gallons of water, and then slept for another four hours. When she woke a second time, Anduin was at the desk in the bedroom, head down over his documents.

“Time?” Luciana mumbled, stretching so hard her breath caught in her chest.

“Just past noon,” Anduin supplied. “The Emerald Hills greater pack was completely eliminated. You killed two alphas, I killed the third, and Teagan, Jillian, and Dirk took down the last. The remainder of the worgen have scattered to the winds.”

“And the other two greater packs?”

“The Raven Hill pack moved when the Emerald Hills were made available,” he reported, sifting through the papers surrounding him. “And the River’s Edge pack is still there, but it seems they caught scent of the slaughter and have been walking on eggshells today.”

“Good. Let them be afraid.”

“I inspected you while you slept,” Anduin continued.

“For?”

“Infection. I’m not clear on how it happened, but there weren’t any traces of the worgen curse in your system. I might not have seen anything because I use the Light rather than the same druidic magic that created the curse, but it seems to me that you’re immune to the bite.”

“Might be Goldrinn’s blessing,” she murmured, rolling onto her stomach and stretching again.

“I would think so. He is heavily connected to the worgen.”

“The first worgen were night elves who took the pack form, with Goldrinn’s fury, and lost control of it,” Luciana explained. “Malfurion told me about it while I was there, about how each druidic form has an origin in the Ancients, and that the pack form was Goldrinn’s, but they couldn’t handle the fury that came with it. I have no doubt he could make one immune to the curse. Or maybe it was my own fury that just overpowered the fury of the pack.”

“Maybe. Light knows it’s already big enough.”

“Almost as big as Varian’s hair.”

He offered her a brief smile before returning his attention to his work. “I took the liberty of sending for an envoy to bring Victoria to Stormwind. She’ll receive better care there, in the Cathedral. I also sent word for a veteran’s care package to be prepared, but I wasn’t sure where it should be sent.”

“Amadeus manor,” she supplied, sitting up finally. “Desmond will take care of it. Jillian will want to go with her.”

“If you don’t have a problem with it,” Anduin said, “I’ll let them know to make room for one more.”

“I don’t,” she confirmed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She arched her back to stretch it, and yawned hard enough to make her jaw crackle. “Jillian was wanting to get out soon, anyway. This will give her a good opportunity, and she won’t feel bad about it.”

“Out, permanently?” Anduin asked.

“Probably. She wants to settle down. With Desmond, preferably. So I’ll send them both out.” She shrugged.

“You’ll need people to replace them.”

“Mm.” She inhaled, taking in the scents of the house, and of the town. It floated in through the window on a cool breeze and she took the time to take stock of it all.

“You slept well?”Anduin asked.

She hummed a confirmation, got to her feet to approach his chair. She felt stiff and heavy from sleeping so long, but she wasn’t tired anymore, only hungry. She threaded her fingers into his loose hair and gave it a gentle tug. He looked up at her with a displeased frown. “You’re working too much,” she murmured. “Leave it for an hour.”

“We still need to come up with long-term solutions for the worgen,” he supplied.

“We can talk to Darnassus about it. They should have gotten my message by now. It will keep us from crashing too hard after the Citadel if we keep moving. The sudden stop in activity could hurt us, collapse the economy - we need things for people to do. Productive things.”

“That’s true,” Anduin agreed. “So, what? We bring Darnassus in to take care of the worgen...”

“Which was originally their problem, anyway.”

“We can build new infrastructure in Darkshore,” Anduin said, smiling slowly. “We have the time, now, and the resources. Draenor is rich with it. We don’t have to take much, just the heavy lumber and ore, just enough to rebuild. We build for them, and they’ll take care of the worgen infestation.”

“The Iron Horde left plenty behind,” she added.

“We can devote more time and people to Ashenvale and the surrounding areas,” he continued, leaning back in his chair.

“We can host talks with the Horde about that,” Luciana said. “Darnassus won’t give up the land but we can calm down the conflicts, at least, now that Hellscream’s Horde is out of the way. Their operations there have almost completely halted - it wouldn’t take much to cease them completely. With the Iron Horde’s remains available they should be willing to step out. We can offer them some lumber, anyway, because Ashenvale is much closer.”

“Isn’t that why they said they took you?” Anduin asked, quietly. 

“Yes.”

“If we talk with the Horde, would you go?”

She breathed in deeply, held it a moment and then exhaled slowly. “I still have nightmares about that.”

“I know.”

“Flashbacks. Hallucinations.”

“I know.”

She sucked her tongue for a moment. “Varian would advise against it,” she said.

“You’re not Varian.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “I would also advise against it. But.”

“But?”

“I’m not sure. I’d have to think about it, light. It... would send a message, certainly.”

“To see you, who was tortured in their lands by orcs, walking into their halls willingly? I imagine it would send quite the message.”

“Mm.” She absently carded her fingers through his hair as she thought. “I don’t know. I’ll think on it. For now, though,” she said, tugging his hair again. “You’ve been working the entire time we’ve been here. Take a break. If you work too much at once you slow down and then you just get cranky.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do, my light,” she smiled. “Come. Let’s walk to the Town Hall. We can check in with the Night Watchers, the trading house and the bank, and we can tell Ebonlocke we’ll be sending him worgen experts soon enough.”

Anduin sighed heavily, but he stood. When she pulled him into a hug he laughed lowly and held her tightly. “You’re right, of course,” he murmured, cheek pressed to her temple, a gentle Light-filled hand against her head. “Let’s go. We can pick you up something to eat along the way.”

“Good, I’m starved.”

The Night Watch militia barracks were open to Luciana and Anduin, and when they entered most of the activity around them ceased. No one was sure if they were supposed to bow or salute, or what. Luciana provided an easy out.

“As you were,” she called, her deep voice reverberating through the halls. “This is not an inspection.”

At that, activity resumed. The Steward hurried to greet them, and at Luciana’s prompt he gave them a quick guided tour of the barracks. Luciana let him off when they made the full circuit, and then she backtracked to the mess hall while Anduin moved to the medical ward to speak with the healers there.

She ate her fill and went to find him. He was still in the medical ward, bent over a heavy book that fascinated him enough that he didn’t notice Luciana until she grabbed his sides.

He squawked and jumped up, spinning to face her with an absolutely comical expression. “Lucy!” he said, aghast.

She laughed. “You look frazzled, dear husband,” she said. “What is this?” she asked, looking down at the book.

“It’s on worgen bites,” he grumbled. “Did you have to do that? That hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely, but she was still smiling. She gently rubbed his sides where she’d pinched him.

He rolled his eyes and then seemed to deflate, and seemed to shake it off. “It’s fine,” he sighed. “Did you eat enough?”

“Yes. Are you done here, or do you want to stay longer?”

“I’m done here. I’ve already asked for a copy of this to be acquired for my personal library.” He gestured to the book. “And the healers here have everything well in hand. Some are actually champions who decided to settle down a bit.”

“That’s good. They’ll prove to be valuable to the people here.”

“They already have,” he confirmed.

They were received similarly at the trading house, and the bank actually announced them before Anduin could tell them not to. He smiled through it while Luciana slipped away to inspect the security measures of the rear vaults.

Ebonlocke was, as usual, taciturn. He was still welcoming to them, even beyond what he had been before. “An entire greater worgen pack, completely annihilated,” he said, walking alongside them. Hearing that they’d been walking through town, he’d waited for them at the front gates. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were bright. “In one night, one of the three biggest packs is completely destroyed. You have done Darkshire a great service, Your Highnesses. I cannot thank you enough. If there is anything we can do to make you stay easier...”

“Don’t worry about that,” Anduin soothed. “We have everything we need.”

“We do what we can, Mayor Ebonlocke. As I said before, Darkshire is just as much a part of Stormwind as Elwynn or Redridge, and will receive the aid it needs,” Luciana added.

“I am eternally grateful for your aid, Your Highnesses,” he stressed. “I did hear about your soldier, Princess. My condolences. If there’s anything we can do... Our healers are well-versed in dealing with worgen-inflicted wounds. We have not yet found a cure, but with minor wounds we can staunch the infection long enough for a healthy body to fight it off.”

“Thank you, Mayor. I’ll be sure you let you know if there’s anything.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Speaking of the worgen,” Luciana continued, moving to the map laid out on the table they’d previously used to plan her assault. “I had the idea of sending for aid from Darnassus.”

“The night elves?” he asked. “Why would they come? They are our allies, I know,” he added.

“The worgen were originally druids who lost themselves to the pack form,” Luciana explained in brief. “The night elves are familiar with them. They are the ones who sealed the worgen away, in the Emerald Dream. They should be able to do it again, or something similar. I’ve already sent off for them. I should receive a reply soon, and when the preparations are made I’ll send word to you to let you know they’re coming.”

He bowed his head in agreement. He wouldn’t dare to object, as she’s made it clear she’d already done it. “That sounds like an excellent long-term plan,” he said. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, what about now? The worgen have taken a step back after the carnage you wrought on their kind, but it will not last forever.”

“A Call to Arms will be sent out,” she said. “To adventurers of appropriate skill who wish to hone their abilities. They will keep the worgen at bay, I’m sure.”

“They’ve done it before,” Ebonlocke agreed. “But, if they lose interest?”

“They won’t,” she said. “At least, not for a while. You’ll have at least a year, I’d say. The truly dedicated adventurers will want to experience fighting feral worgen in all four seasons. You might also get Nesingwary followers.”

“Hemet Nesingwary?” Ebonlocke asked. “I’ve heard of him. He has some sort of cult following, no?”

“They enjoy hunting curious beasts,” Anduin provided simply. “The bigger and meaner, the better.”

“In their case, it doesn’t get better than worgen. Big, fast, mean, and intelligent. They’ll have a wild ride,” she said with a crooked smirk. Ebonlocke looked down at the map quickly.

Luciana left Anduin with the mayor. She wanted to check on Victoria. While she didn’t regret her actions and wouldn’t apologize, except maybe to Victoria herself for taking her mobility from her, she was still worried. Losing a finger was hard. Losing one arm was hard. Losing both legs could break even the strongest of wills. It was so much more than lost limbs - it was lost autonomy. It would be a big adjustment for Victoria, even with her easygoing attitude. Luciana could only hope that Victoria would let Desmond and Jillian care for her.


	15. Death

It was well past nightfall when Luciana visited Stormwind. She’d given Naemete specific instructions on when and where to open the portals, and had put effort into making sure Anduin was fast asleep during that time. She’d told Four she was taking a walk around Darkshire, which he’d report to Anduin on the off chance the Prince woke and wondered where she was. She didn’t feel bad at all about lying to Four, because she’d rather he not have to lie to his Prince.

Naemete greeted her when she stepped through the portal. “Luciana,” the draenei whispered, smiling. Her eyes glowed softly with the eternal blessing of the Light. “It is good to see you again.”

“You too, Nae,” Luciana said, a bit absently. “Thanks for the portal.”

“Of course. Shall I wait here?”

“No, I don’t know how long I’ll be. It could be ten minutes, could be two hours. Not much more than that, though. I have to get back before dawn.”

“Then, I shall go to the library,” Naemete said. “And you can come and find me when you are finished! Will that work?”

Luciana smiled. “Yes, thank you.”

Naemete bowed her head with a quirky grin, and Luciana turned her back on the draenei and hurried through the dark halls of the Keep.

She hadn’t sent word to anyone that she was visiting, and stuck to the back halls and avoided the guards. She knew all of their patrols, even most of the SI:7 routes through the castle. It took a bit more time, but at least she wouldn’t have curious guards poking their nose into her business. It never really did any harm, as the Royal Guards were loyal and well-trained, but it still annoyed her sometimes.

When Luciana reached the Royal Wing, she had no choice but to step into sight, as there were no back halls here that weren’t patrolled. Instead, she spoke to several of the guards she knew were senior, or held more influence, and told them that her business here was secret, and they weren’t to spread word that she was in the Keep that night when she should have been in Darkshire. None of them were really surprised to see her - or at least, they didn’t show it. Nor did they question her orders.

She knew Wrathion was staying in a guest room at the edge of the wing. She didn’t bother to make a secret of her visiting him, as even the Royal Guards didn’t know his true identity. They all truly thought he was her distant cousin, an Amadeus from the fourth branch sent to help write letters or organize meetings or some such. It wouldn’t strike them as out of the ordinary to see her visiting him, and so word wouldn’t get back to Anduin until it was far enough in the past that it wouldn’t matter.

She had a guard unlock the door and slipped into the antechamber. Wrathion was considered a low-risk target and so he had no need of Royal Guards guarding his door. He would be safe with just the guards patrolling the nearby corridor, who would hear if he screamed for help, and the occasional SI:7 agent’s patrol through the secret passages in the walls of the Keep. Luciana had no doubt that with his draconic hearing, even in his mortal guise Wrathion could on occasion hear their muted footsteps in the walls. The first time Luciana had heard them after receiving Goldrinn’s blessing, she’d nearly torn open the wall to find the source. She’d quickly learned the difference between a rat, a spy, and an agent.

She’d thought that perhaps Wrathion would be sleeping, but he was wide awake, pouring over old books of some sort. She read several of the spines of the books he’d piled up. _Discoveries of Uldum_ was precariously balanced on a tea mug, and _Ahn’qiraj: The Shifting Sands of Time_ was propped open on top of _Ulduman And the Secrets of the Titans_ and _The Watchers: Keepers of Ancient Knowledge_.

“Interesting stuff?” she said. Wrathion twitched, slightly, and she offered a smile.

“Ah, Your Highness,” he said, smoothly rising to his feet to greet her. As a lower noble should, he took her proffered hand and bowed low over it to kiss the Wrynn signet ring she’d specifically worn for her nightly visit. “You honour me with your presence here. I was not made aware you would be visiting, else I would have... freshened up,” he said with a glint of pointed teeth in his smile.

“That’s why I didn’t call ahead,” she replied, falling into parade rest. It was easy for her, and after years of training it was a casual pose for her to adopt in any circumstance. “I assume you’re keeping up with the court activities as well as your personal studies?” she said.

“Of course. Do you take me for a fool?” he asked. “Come, please, sit,” he said, clearing a space on the table for her. “Can I get you a drink, perhaps? I’ve been stocked to my horns with all manner of them.”

She considered the offer as she took the chair he’d pulled out for her. “If you have honeyed mead, I’ll take that. I could use a warm drink.”

“Have you already tired yourself out?” he quipped, returning shortly with an unopened bottle of mead and two glass tumblers. He poured some for each of them, and held up his drink in a toast. Luciana clinked her glass against his, in a good enough mood to play along with him. “To the health of the monarchs,” he said lightly. “Princes and Princesses both.”

“To our health,” she replied with a half-smile, and took a sip of the mead. It was thick and sweet, and her breath hurried down her throat for a few moments afterward. She inspected the mead before putting it down gently on the table. “Obviously, I came to check in on things,” she said. Wrathion would know exactly what she meant. _I don’t trust you._  
“Obviously, things are going well,” Wrathion replied. _I know you don’t trust me_. His eyes were grey in his disguise, but they glittered with the same fire he had in his true form. “You’re in a good mood,” he commented. “You haven’t threatened to strangle me yet.” _Anduin does have some trust in me._

“I’d bite out your throat,” she corrected. _That’s why I’m only checking in and not killing you_. She sighed and leaned into her chair, settling against the armrest. “I had a nice week so far,” she told him. “We hunted feral worgen.”

“Ah, I see. You were let loose.” He smiled knowingly, and she gave him a neutral expression in return.

“Quite,” she said blandly. “I’m rarely, if ever tired. But after spending a few hours in a berserk state, one tends to find relaxing comes a little easier.”

“I was wondering why you were so... quiet,” he settled on, swirling his drink slowly in the glass. “For once, you’re not about to vibrate through the walls.”

“No, not right now,” she hummed, pulling herself out of the chair. She took her drink in hand and wandered to the glass doors to the patio. It was small, large enough for an important guest to enjoy themselves. Wrathion shadowed her. She could feel his gaze boring into the back of her head. He was watchful, and he should be. She was acting with respect, but she did not favour him, and he knew he still had to be very careful with her. She smiled privately, schooled her expression back into a neutral one, and turned to face him. She sipped her drink, taking her time and enjoying the impatience in the slight tightening of his eyes. “How have they been?” she asked.

“They’re like children,” he sighed. “I don’t know how you can get anything done in here! It’s incredible how far one will go to stall another, all the while holding everyone else back save for a few who they disregarded who take the chance to pull ahead. And, furthering the problem, those few will stall each other and allow others to pull ahead, only to be pulled back out of sheer spite! Mortals are incredible in the worst ways, sometimes,” he said.

“I know,” she agreed. “Sometimes you just have to shut them up and do it anyway. Not you, of course,” she said with a humorous smile. “You’re just an assistant, here.”

“I wouldn’t dare to imagine,” Wrathion replied with a flat look. “Come, let’s sit outside. Fewer ears,” he murmured with a look to the south wall. He knew, then, that there was a hole there where the SI:7 could sit and keep an ear out for dangerous guests. Luciana stepped back, letting him open up the doors for her, and took her seat only after he prepared it for her. She wanted him to remember that he was not here as the Black Prince. He was here as Marcellus Amadeus, a minor noble at best, and he was entertaining the Princess. Luciana took her seat slowly. She felt Wrathion’s eyes on her still. “Something is not right with you,” he said.

“You’re use to seeing me at higher levels of energy. This is what I would be like if I didn’t have such active fury. Perhaps if I didn’t have fury.”

“No, it goes beyond that. I’ve seen it, you know. I’m not blind.” She glanced over at him, and considering warning him away from the topic. But she was too tired to care. She’d been going for too long. Maybe that was its own warning. Wrathion silently sat in the chair next to her. She appreciated his quiet - she didn’t have the energy to deal with anything else right then. But, perhaps it was another warning. Anduin’s tales of the Black Prince had never made him out to be a quiet individual. “You’re not well,” he hummed.

“No,” she agreed just as quietly. “I never will be.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not sure you can understand,” she said, not insulting, merely stating. “You’re not a warrior.”

“Try me.”

She glanced over at him. His eyes were orange-red and fiery and very clearly draconic, but she could still read them. She looked away again, to the snow-capped mountains in the distance. She’d never been good at obeying warning signs. “It separates you,” she started. “It marks you as different. Whatever you do, people can feel it. There’s a barrier between you and the people around you. Sometimes I don’t think even warriors can understand each other.”

“So you’re alone.”

“We’re alone,” she confirmed. “It starts small. When you’re young, sixteen or seventeen, it’s not so bad. You’re full of life, full of eagerness for it, for the fight. There’s nothing else and it’s not so bad if you can let it loose.” She spoke slowly, unsure. She doubted Wrathion would really care, but he’d probably keep her talking to garner an advantage, find her weaknesses. It wouldn’t matter. She knew how to kill him.

“What? Your fury?”

“Yes. And everything else, it’s tied in to your fury. It comes out too, and it’s not so bad. But after, when you’re a bit older, a bit more experienced, less naive, you realize.” She sighed heavily, took a moment to be still before inhaling again. Wrathion was quiet. He didn’t take up much space and she was slowly filling it in, occupying it. At the very least this would lighten the load for a little while. She could be a bit brighter for Anduin tomorrow. “It’s not a good thing, your fury. It keeps you moving, but there’s a cost. It moves you away from everyone else, to where they can’t reach you. And you end up in the dark.”

“Alone,” Wrathion supplied.

“Completely. When you realize you’re in the dark, you turn around, try to get back but you can’t. You’ve changed too much. Or maybe it’s just that the world realized how different you are. Everything is tied to your fury,” she said emphatically. “If not for the fury, you wouldn’t exist. You don’t know any other way. So you keep using it. You keep going, further into the dark. No one can reach you and sometimes, no one wants to, no one tries. You can’t reach them. And there’s no bottom to it - you just keep sinking, into despair.”

“Is that why people say warriors always die young?”

“There’s nothing else,” she replied, nodding slowly in confirmation of his words. “There’s only fury, and fighting, and then death. You expect to die bloody and alone.” She paused, absently sipped her drink. She was surprised, somehow, that he hadn’t poisoned her. Maybe, if it came down to it, she could kill him and say she suspected him of trying to assassinate her. “It’s just how it is. Once you’re in the dark you can’t get out, so you keep going down because it’s impossible for a warrior to ever stop moving and be still for more than a moment. And the only way out is death.”

“I thought you weren’t like that,” Wrathion said. “What with the Prince, and your children.”

She shrugged loosely. “For a while, I thought it was fixed. I thought I was climbing out.”

“You weren’t.”

“I don’t know how Varian does it. Maybe his sense of responsibility is too great. Maybe it was the ritual.”

“Responsibility to his kingdom?”

“Yes. Maybe that will be enough to keep me going. I don’t know. I’m a berserker, he’s not.”

“How is that different from fury?”

She smiled, forced her face to move past the scars. “A berserker,” she said, “doesn’t stop until everything around them is dead and broken. I’m lucky enough that I learned how to control it, for the most part. I don’t know how. Maybe it’s just me, maybe it was Goldrinn. But when I berserk, the fury takes over completely. It’s not driving me, it’s not keeping me going. It is me. I am nothing but fury. Everything else that’s tied to it, all of it, just falls to the side. There is nothing except the urge to break. I want to taste blood, I want to see bones, I want to hear screaming and fear. There’s nothing better. I am the strongest and there is no power that can stop me, and I revel in it.”

“That makes you dangerous.”

“That’s why I learned control, I think. I was afraid of it, I was afraid I was going to hurt my sisters or scare my brothers. I didn’t want that, so I held it all in tight as I could and learned how to make a leash for it. It worked, mostly. I can avoid hurting my allies, most of the time - but I can’t stop it once it’s started, not until I’m so exhausted I can’t breathe, not until nothing around me is alive. That feeling, that exhaustion that comes after, is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like... I’m empty, finally. I can stop moving. I can rest for a while. But it always comes back. It’s just who I am.”

“And that’s why you’re alone?” he asked. “Because of this fury?”

“Yeah.” She wet her lips absently, took a sip of her mead. “It marks you as different. Even if you don’t look different, people can tell. They can sense, I suppose, that you’re dangerous. You’re always moving, always hyperaware, always ready to fight. Even your body, my body, it’s always running on high.”

“That’s why you eat so much, then,” Wrathion said. “And why you’re always feverish.”

He seemed to know. Maybe he’d been watching her, watching other warriors. “Yes. People can tell. Most of the time they’ll feel some kind of... of disquiet towards you. Warriors are unnerving to be around if you’re not one because of their tension. All of that fury, all of that power, coiled up tight as can be, always about to snap. It’s hard to understand it, I think, unless you have it. And then you feel sympathy for it.”

Wrathion was silent, and she didn’t speak again. She was perfectly content sitting in silence. This was one of the few times she could remember when she didn’t have the incessant urge to get up move. It was nice, she decided, to be able to relax. This was how normal people felt. She liked it.

She could see Wrathion in her peripheral vision. He was different from how Anduin had described him. Maybe age was the deciding factor. She didn’t trust him, and the fact that she could tolerate him did not help that. She was naturally suspicious of people that made themselves tolerable. Still, he was quiet, and she relaxed into it as best she could, eyes on the mountains in the distance.


	16. Warrior's Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never gonna stop me  
> Never gonna stop
> 
> Scream if you want it  
> Cause I want more

Wrathion broke the silence he’d started when he finished his drink. The night was calm and cool and Luciana was still exhausted from fighting the feral worgen. When Wrathion spoke he was surprisingly respectful. Surprising, as Luciana’s understanding of him was of the three year old whelp he’d once been. He’d matured since then, she supposed. “Anduin isn’t afraid of you,” he said. The words felt abrupt after the long silence they’d shared, and Luciana scowled at the thought. “Your children are not afraid, nor is the King.”

“Anduin...” She brushed off the scowl, and didn’t look at Wrathion. “I think, I don’t know... he doesn’t really realize it,” she said softly. “It doesn’t help that I don’t tell him the details. I don’t want him to suffer from his own inability to help me. My children don’t know better. They see me as Mama before they see me as a warrior. I’m glad for that. I don’t think I could bear seeing them afraid of me. And Varian is a warrior, too. He’s older than me, and while his body isn’t in the shape it used to be he’d still beat me in a fight. He’s too experienced. And I see him as a parent, as... as higher up on the scale, I guess. I wouldn’t want to be able to beat him. That gives him an edge over me, so he has no reason to fear me.”

“And Anduin? You think he doesn’t realize how dangerous you are? I think he does,” Wrathion said. “He dances around you, like a protective Power Word.”

Luciana inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly. “He’s only just seen me berserk,” she said quietly. “He hasn’t had time to think about it. He saw me angry, when you showed up. But he’s never been fully exposed to it all before this week. I don’t think it’s set in yet, that I didn’t hurt him only because I was still aware enough to realize it was him. I nearly killed Jillian,” she mentioned. “All I saw was a worgen, while I was hunting worgen. Anduin had to use the Light to warn me off her. That hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“I think you don’t give him enough credit,” Wrathion said. “He’s exceedingly intelligent and it seems to be focused in his understanding of people, and emotion. I think he does understand. I think you just don’t want to see it. You still keep a distance between you two.”

“For his safety.” The words resonated with her. She knew how keenly intelligent Anduin was, how easily he saw into people’s hearts. She frowned, and sipped her drink.

“You think you’ll hurt him.”

“Yes,” she said. “I can’t say I wouldn’t. I’ve hurt my own people before. Not badly. I realized who they were after a moment and managed to turn my attention to an actual threat. But I have done it.”

“They couldn’t have held it against you.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they’d forget. Or forgive,” she added. “I don’t know if Victoria will. They don’t understand. How could they? They don’t have a monster in their gut that ate everything else.”

“So why do you hold onto him, then?” Wrathion asked.

“Because I’m alone,” she replied quietly. “And he’s... soft. He’s... he welcomes me. He wants me. That’s a rare and precious thing.” She wet her lips, blinked a few times against the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t let go of that, dragon. I’d fall.”

“Into the darkness.”

“I’d never get back up.”

“I thought you said no one could reach you?”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you,” she sighed. “He can’t reach me, but he tries so hard to do it anyway, and maybe that’s enough. Maybe he’s cast a rope down, or shed a bit of light, just enough for me to see, or something. I don’t know.” She shrugged one great shoulder helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps in time, he could pull you out. If you live long enough.”

“I don’t know. He’s certainly trying.” She half-smiled wetly. “I love him. Desperately. I can’t let go of him, even though I should. I have nothing else to hold onto. I can’t let go of that, Wrathion. I can’t be lost like that again. It would only be worse this time, because I know what it’s like to not be lost. Still in the dark, still alone, but... at least now, I have hope.”

“That’s what it all comes down to, it seems,” Wrathion said.

“I suppose,” Luciana said. “Everything hurts. Everything is terrible. But, I hope. The night is dark, and long, and the forest is full of evil things, but the moon is bright enough to light my way. I have hope that one day, I’ll be out. So I keep going. Maybe I’m only going further into it. Maybe I’m walking in circles. But I hope that I’m moving towards the path, towards the edge of the forest. I hope that one day I’ll be free of it. That keeps me going.”

“That’s a sad way to live,” Wrathion said plainly. “Oh, no. Don’t cry,” he pleaded.

Luciana reached up to wipe away the tears that had gathered, harshly rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m not going to,” she said thickly. “It won’t do anything. And yes, I know. It is a sad way to live. Sometimes I wonder who had the bright idea to make warriors. Did they know we’d turn out like this? Did they realize what kind of system they were setting up?”

“Are you suicidal?” Wrathion asked suddenly.

“Yes.”

He fell silent for a few moments. “Oh,” he said, the word oddly loud, cracking against the night. “Well. I thought, with Anduin, you wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t want to be like this,” she said quietly. “I can’t stop,” she said. “I can’t stop. Everything just. It’s like rubbing a balloon. You fill it with static and then it zaps you and it just fills up with static again, and zaps you again. I can’t stop, I can’t rest, everything hurts. I’d rather be dead. And that’s the only way I can get out of it. But I won’t die, because that would hurt Anduin. I don’t know if he’d be better off with me alive, though. I don’t know how long I can keep it down. I don’t know how much time he has left with me. The rope is fraying and I don’t know that the leash isn’t fraying, too. When the rope snaps, the leash might too, and I might hurt him.”

“You’re strong,” Wrathion said. “You can keep it down as long as you need.”

“I hope so.” She looked over, smiled tightly as best she could past the scaring. “I really, really hope so. Because I can’t hurt Anduin. I can’t.” She shook her head slowly as she turned her gaze back to the faraway mountains. “I wouldn’t survive that. I’d die.” She wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. Normally they stuck in her throat and choked her when she tried to vocalize them. She decided it didn’t matter, because Anduin still wouldn’t hear them, and what was the point otherwise?

“You’d die if you hurt him?” Wrathion asked.

“I would. Someone else would live, but I’d die. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I’d shrivel up and die.”

“You are truly sad, Luciana,” Wrathion said quietly. “I don’t know how you can live like that.”

“I don’t, either.”

She felt his gaze sharp on her face, but she ignored it. “Yet you live,” he prompted.

“Warriors don’t stop, Wrathion. I thought I made that clear. The problem is that we keep moving, even when we should stop. We are completely incapable of stopping, even when it’s destroying us. It’s the only thing we know. The most I can hope for is that I’ll die a hero, before I can kill any of my family.”

“They wouldn’t let you.”

“Wouldn’t let me die? Or wouldn’t let me hurt them?”

“Both.”

She smiled at him humourlessly. “They wouldn’t be able to stop me, Wrathion. That’s the problem with marrying a berserker. Once I get going, I’m like a hurricane. All you can do is get out of the way, and pray. You can’t fight a hurricane.”

“Shaman can.”

“Anduin is a priest, dragon.”

“And very good at praying.”

“Not that good.”

“You respond to him,” Wrathion insisted. “He would stop you. Use the Light, or something.”

“That might redirect me. It might only make me target him. Why are you so insistent about this?” she asked suddenly, looking over at him and smiling wryly. “Have you grown fond of me, dragon?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, looking away with a huff of smoke from his nostrils. “I merely want the Alliance to be strong enough to survive the Legion’s return.”

“And when is that going to happen?” she asked. “I don’t think they’ll come in my lifetime.”

“They might,” Wrathion said. “It won’t be long. Not longer than a century, but more than a decade, I think. I think,” he repeated. “It’s never clear, when I have visions. Do you know about that?”

“Anduin mentioned it once or twice, yes. My sister has future sight,” she said. “She’s had it since she was twelve, I think. Funnily enough, she saw me wearing a crown long before I knew I’d be here. She said it looked lovely on me.”

Wrathion hummed thoughtfully. “Is that the actor sister?”

“No, the mage.”

“Ah, I see. She likely has it because of the magic.”

“Probably.” Luciana sighed heavily, and shifted in her comfortably cushioned chair. She felt restless, suddenly. She wanted to find Anduin, bask in his presence, take in his scent. “Will you tell Anduin?”

“Tell him what?”

“Any of it. That I want to die.”

“I could,” he said. Offered. 

Luciana shook her head. She didn’t know if she was denying his help or disbelieving that he actually offered to help. “I’d rather you didn’t, honestly. I don’t want him to know how bad it is.”

“How bad is it?”

“Much worse than it should be. I think, being a berserker, my line is shorter than it would be otherwise. And it doesn’t help that my life has not been otherwise pleasant.”

“Your brother, you mean. Your time in the Barrens.”

“Yes.”

“Why shouldn’t he know? He’s your husband. Does your father know? The King, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe he can see it, maybe he doesn’t want to see it. Maybe he doesn’t know how to help. I don’t Anduin to know. I don’t want him to suffer trying to help someone who can’t be helped.”

“You really don’t see a way out.”

“Only death,” she said quietly. “Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing.”

“I’ve heard that before, somewhere,” Wrathion said.

“The Warrior's Song,” Luciana supplied. “Popular drinking song, though it’s not a cheery one.”

“How does it go?” Wrathion asked. His brow was furrowed, like he was trying to recall it.

Luciana smiled, and sang softly, almost under her breath. The tune itself seemed upbeat, almost cheerful, and it'd been cannibalized into many other songs. But this one, the original, belonged to warriors. Tonight, it belonged solely to her.

__  
“Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing  
Only when I’m dead will my hands not ache  
With the urge to break, the want of blood  
Only when I’m dead will my heart stop aching 

_Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing_  
Only when I’m dead will my hands be clean  
Of the blood of my enemies and blood-wet dirt  
Only when I’m dead will my screaming stop 

_Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing_  
Nothing but blood can satisfy  
Only when I’m dead will I stop fighting  
Only when I’m dead will my body rest 

_Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing_  
Only when I’m dead shall my body find rest  
Only when I’m dead shall my blood stop singing  
Only when I’m dead will I find peace” 

 

On the one hand, she knew the look Wrathion would be giving her. Doubt, mild unease, some confusion. She'd seen the look before, when she's sung the ballad to her brother when she was younger. She knew it was because he didn't understand. To be a warrior was to be unstoppable, even to yourself. A warrior never stopped fighting, and that was their pride. It was debilitating and in the end it destroyed them, but a warrior could take pride in their fury. Luciana was proud of how hard she could fight, how long she could last in a battle without rest. There wasn't any other viable option, after all. She could be proud of her fury, of her strength, or she could hate it. That would only result in self-destruction, and destruction of those around her. She'd seen warriors go out that way before. She wouldn't. She'd keep on as long as she could and fall to her enemies, not her friends. And when she'd earned it, death would be her reward. An end to it all.

She didn't need to look over to see Wrathion's expression. It was always the same reaction.

"How... delightful," he said airily, and she snorted.


	17. No Helping It

Wrathion stared at her for a moment. “That is a very morbid drinking song.”

“It was quite popular when the army was only warriors,” she explained. “Kind of... Like we’re hoping it’ll come soon. We’re celebrating it and acknowledging that the others are, too. When regular soldiers started being trained, it fell out of favour. They didn’t really see the appeal of it.”

“But you do.”

“Quite.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes.”

“Anduin would want to know.”

“He’s not going to.”

“What if I tell him anyway?”

She didn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I’d leave, maybe.”

“You don’t know? I’d think you would kill me for telling him.”

“What would be the point? He’d already know. No, I’d kill you now before you could tell him.”

“And say what? I killed the black dragon because he runs at the mouth?”

“I’d say that I killed you because you became a threat to my family,” she said easily. “Or that you tried to poison my drink when I came to check up on your progress.”

“Right.” Wrathion sighed quietly, barely heard over the tall, wind-rustled trees scattered throughout the fields below. “I won’t tell him, on one condition.”

“I won’t kill you, on one condition.”

“He deserves to know.”

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned over two mere mortals.”

“Dragons are not immortal anymore, Princess.”

“The statement stands.”

Wrathion sighed explosively and slipped off the chair, onto his feet. He paced the length of the balcony behind Luciana once, twice, and then stopped. “I admit that I’ve grown... fond of you two,” he said finally, his voice surprisingly calm. He was trying one path before committing to another, she could tell. A move popular with politicians and courtiers. “Your intelligence is refreshing, even if your bland political views aren’t.”

“I don’t want to make nice with the people that tortured me for two months and left me with permanent mental scarring if I don’t have to. Sue me,” she shrugged. “You can even go through the Petitioner’s Chamber.”

"You don't know for sure it was the Horde," he reasoned. "You only know that they _said_ they were."

"I wouldn't put it past them," she said. "And either way, it benefited them."

“Shut up,” Wrathion sighed. “We’re not talking about that right now.” Luciana merely shrugged her heavy shoulders again. “Anduin should know.”

“Why? It would only hurt him.”

“Well if he knew, maybe he’d find a way to help you.”

“Were you not listening?” she growled, finally getting to her feet. Wrathion got to his feet like a snake slipping out of a clay pot, graceful and smooth. By comparison Luciana was a lumbering forest bear, and dwarfed him even with his slight height advantage. He’d made his human guise taller, she noted, after spending time being shorter than her. “There is no way,” she said lowly, taking a step towards him, and then another. He did not retreat, not physically, but he shrank in on himself, made himself less of a target, ever a strategist. She didn’t care about that right now. 

“There must be,” he said stubbornly, betraying his attempt to seem less threatening. “Anduin, of all people, would find it. You must have told me all this for a reason. You’re reaching out for help.”

Luciana leaned over him. She knew why it was upsetting her. She didn’t like to think that there might be a way out of the dark, because logically there was none. Warriors better than her had tried. They’d tried for centuries, as a group, as individuals, to escape it. There was no way out but death. Giving her that hope, only to have it ripped away, would be cruel. Unnecessarily so. She didn’t think she’d ever done anything to deserve that terrible a punishment. Not even Bradley Conwell. “There is no way,” she said slowly, her eyes dark. “People better than you have tried, dragon. We have tried for centuries. Millennia. There is no way out but death. Unless you want to kill me with your own claws, you will keep it to yourself.”

Wrathion glared at her, abandoning his pretense of submission and stepping back to have room to straighten, stand tall. She returned his glare with even more heat, even more threat, and he was the first to look away, reluctantly. “Fine,” he said shortly. “But don’t blame me if he finds out anyway.”

“I will,” she said shortly, easing her own stance. She’d made her point. “Who else could it come from?”

“Himself? You?” Wrathion shrugged. “Greymane? The King? Any number of people. Maybe even your brothers will mention something and Anduin will figure it out. He’s not a fool.”

“Hopefully I’ll be dead by then.”

“And what, leave him alone?” Wrathion shot back. “With the misery of knowing he could have helped you?”

“He _can’t_ ,” Luciana snarled. “It’s best to not have him hope, and then take it away when he finally realizes the truth.”

“You’d rather him live with that misery for the rest of his life, without you there to lessen it?”

Luciana had had enough, and she let it be known. She bared her teeth, raised her hand as though to strangle Wrathion - and he’d never forgotten the pressure of her fingers like steel around his neck - and he flinched away. “You will not tell him,” she said. Commanded. There was no room for argument, no room for questioning her. There was only obedience, even from a dragon. “He will not suffer this.”

“He would want to know,” Wrathion insisted, keeping his voice even. “He wants to know everything about you, Luciana. He’s your partner. Your _mate_. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Is he just an accessory for you tout along like...?”

Her hand met his neck and she swept out her foot, sending his legs out to the side so she could slam him into the stone floor of the balcony. It shook under the strain of her blow, even as she snarled down at Wrathion.

“You know I’m right,” he wheezed. “You should... trust him. He’s no fool.” He was struggling to speak, wiggling his fingers under hers to alleviate some of the pressure. Even with his draconic strength, his mortal guise was too weak to throw her off completely, but he gave himself room to speak. “You should trust him. He’s your light, isn’t he? The moon over the forest. Let him... Let him guide you out.”

Luciana wanted to kill him. Her fury wanted to kill him. She wanted to feel his neck give out, feel his windpipe collapse. She wanted to dominate him, make him fear her, make him pay for denying her superiority. It ate at her, made her breath quicken, her heart race. She wanted to kill him and scream it to the kingdom, the world, that _she_ was stronger.

“Trust your light,” Wrathion wheezed. Her hand had tightened with the roil of fury in the gut that warned of berserk, pinning his fingers to his neck. It took a moment. She stared down at him, eyes blank, fury blazing in her chest. Slowly, she released the pressure in her hand. Wrathion’s breath whistled in his damaged throat, and Luciana loosened her hand until he could breathe almost fully. “Trust him,” he rasped. “Don’t trust me. Trust him.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Luciana said lowly. Her fury felt numbed. The memory of Velen’s words whispered to her past it. _Trust in your light_. “How would you know? Did you see it?”

“I saw you,” Wrathion replied. Her hand left his neck and he coughed, hacked and coughed like his lungs wanted to escape. He held a hand to his throat and it glowed white-hot for a moment. Luciana wondered if heat could repair damage on a black dragon. When he sat up, his voice was hoarse, but he was breathing well enough. “I saw you. You had a...” He gestured to his head. “You had a crown of Light around your head. Anduin’s Light. He was guiding you through something. Or towards it. I couldn’t see much past you.”

“When?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. More than a decade into the future.”

“And you couldn’t simply tell me this?” she asked angrily, getting to her feet in one smooth movement. She paced away from him, her hands met the parapet and she leaned over it, breathing deeply. 

Her blood was pounding, demanding blood be shed. Her heart was racing, her vision blurred at the edges. She wanted to break someone, grab them and smash them into the ground, feel their bones give under her hand. She wanted to tear into them with her hands, scream bloody murder at their dying face and smile with an open mouth as the light left their eyes. She tamped it down. She put the leash back around its neck, pulled the monster down into her gut where it would rest until it was needed. Anduin. She thought of Anduin, sweet and soft, asleep next to her. The scent of him, the sound of his slow heartbeat, the feel of the room, quiet while he slept. Wrathion wisely remained silent until her breath eased.

“I was going to,” he said weakly. His voice still had an edge like dusty dirt to it. “If you hadn’t started to strangle me.”

“You pissed me off,” she growled warningly, and he shut up until she could regain complete control of herself. “I should kill you.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“It would upset Anduin.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat, and coughed, and his voice cleared. He’d healed it, or perhaps it had healed at the normal rate for a dragon. “What will you do now?” he asked.

“He’s not going to know.”

“Why not?” Wrathion demanded. “He needs to know! He needs to know so he can help you!”

“There is no way to help me!” she roared, rounding on him again.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” a guard called from the door to the antechamber.

“Fine!” she replied loudly. “Leave us be.”

“Your Highness,” the guard called, and was silent. Luciana turned, an animalistic snarl on her face, to Wrathion.

“There is no way to help me,” she repeated, less loudly, still feral. “I’ve tried my whole life to find the way out. There is none. Warriors have tried since the first time our blood sang in our veins. There is no way out. There is only hope, despair, and then death.”

“There must be a way,” Wrathion insisted quietly. “Some warriors can live full, happy lives.”

“Like Varian?” she retorted. “He’s in the worst shape I’ve ever seen. His long life cursed him. He’s probably wishing the Wrynn curse was still strong and that the wyrmkin had killed him, years ago. Even with his Professor friend, he’s suffering. In silence, because he doesn’t want to hurt Anduin. He doesn’t want to fail his son. But he’s hurting. He wants to die.”

“How would you know?” Wrathion demanded.

“Because I can see it,” she replied. “I’m a warrior, too. I can see it in him. I can see it in all of us.”

“Shouldn’t another warrior be able to understand?” he asked. “To help?”

“They can help by finally killing me when I go crazy.”

“There is a way,” he said firmly. “It’s loneliness, right? Surround yourself with your friends, your squadron. Let Anduin take care of you. That will help.”

“And when night comes and they’re all asleep, it will all come crashing down,” she replied. “It happens every day. At night, when everyone else is asleep, I’ll be awake, wondering why I still hurt. Haven’t they helped me? Aren’t I not alone anymore? But I am. They can’t understand the fury. I am fury. It is me. There is nothing else that matters and they can’t understand. I can’t change. I won’t change. At the end of the day, no matter how much I want to be like them, I will only be myself. I will only have myself.”

“You have Anduin,” Wrathion insisted. “You have to trust him, Luciana. You have to let him help you. I know that there is a way. Didn’t Goldrinn tame the fury with the help of the moon goddess? Elune?” he asked.

“Elune judged him because he refused to tame his fury,” she said flatly. “When the scythe was made with the fang of Goldrinn and the light of Elune, it was used against him.”

“But what about now?” Wrathion insisted. “What about now, with the worgen? The scythe let them regain themselves. Goldrinn’s power worked in tandem with the light of Elune to help them, away from the savagery of the fury. They all depend on each other, and look to their pack leader, Greymane, for guidance. There must be some similar way to help you. To help warriors.”

She regarded him carefully, raised her chin slightly. “There is no helping me,” she said softly. “You’d have to cut out my heart. Either physically, or otherwise.”

“There’s more to your heart than fury.”

“My fury is in everything I am, dragon. It’s tied into everything. When I am happy, it’s elevated by my fury. When I’m sad it’s made all the worse.”

“Why won’t you trust him?” Wrathion asked quietly.

“Why are you so insistent?”

“I told you,” he said. “I saw you. I saw it happen.”

“Future sight is not reliable.”

“Mine has never shown me a false vision. My visions are Titan-given. They’re not wrong.”

“Obviously, they are,” she said softly. “The Light would never crown me.” Luciana turned to the doors, to leave the balcony. She was tired. She wanted to be done. She wanted to lie down and give up and be still as death, even though she knew she never could. She wished she’d never left Anduin to visit the castle, that she’d never cared enough about her mistrust of Wrathion to check in.

Wrathion’s hand was overly hot when it closed suddenly around her wrist. “You need to trust your light,” he said softly, eyes glowing intensely with fire and magic. “It will be the thing to save you. I saw it.”

She yanked her hand away from him, snorted, and when she was away from the light of the moon, she shut the doors behind her with a snap. She’d gotten what she came for. The court was still stable, she knew, and Wrathion was behaving as he should be. 

While she knew she shouldn’t have let all of that out, it had all come tumbling out anyway. At least she knew Wrathion could keep a secret. And with the memory of her hand around his neck forever imprinted in his mind, he would. Now, at least, she was completely wrung out. She could sleep deeply, for once, next to Anduin.


	18. Heartblossom

Luciana found Naemete, and it took effort but she put on a calm face and was patient while the mage opened a portal to a discreet location in Darkshire. “There!” Naemete said brightly when the portal was stable. “I will see you again soon, Luciana,” she said, giving a little wave. Luciana barely saw it past the shimmering magic, and then she stepped through it into sudden darkness. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she knew reasonably that human eyes had no right seeing so well in the dark. She reminded herself that she had the favour of an Ancient. It was taking some getting used to.

Anduin was asleep when she returned, and she hoped he’d been asleep the whole time. He stirred when the door clicked shut behind her, and while she stripped off her clothes he murmured and shifted and turned onto his back.

“Luce?” he mumbled.

“I’m here,” she replied quickly, pacing over to the bed. She pulled back the sheets, slipped in under them and hurried to cover Anduin again. The nights in Darkshire were cold and he chilled easily. Much more easily than her, at any rate.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbled as she moved close to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He lay his arm down along her back and she sighed, relaxing against him.

“Just out for a bit, to check on things,” she replied quietly. “Everything’s fine, my light. Go back to sleep.”

“You can wake me next time,” he said, gathering the energy for his words to come out properly, without slurring. “To tell me you’re going out.”

“If you want.”

He mumbled an affirmative, and she listened to his heart slow back down to a sleeping pace.

Luciana did not sleep well like she thought she would. Teagan woke them a few hours later, just after dawn, but he was smart enough to bring food with him. By now, all Royal Guards knew to bring food if they were going to be disturbing Luciana. If they were waking her, or interrupting something, they would bring her something to eat. It usually did wonders to ease her irritation at being disturbed unexpectedly. She’d reassured several of them many times that it wasn’t necessary, but they’d all simply smiled and asked if she was ordering them to stop. Since it wasn’t an order, they kept doing it with cheeky smiles, and she didn’t have the heart to end that.

Teagan bowed and excused himself, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Where did you go last night?” Anduin asked, leaning up on his elbows. “I know I asked you, but I didn’t hear your answer. I was still mostly asleep,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“I could tell,” she said, leaning up to kiss him before leaving the bed. “I went out to check on things,” she replied easily.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Father does that, a lot,” Anduin said. “Every night, I think.”

“I know. Sometimes I’ll hear him getting up.”

“Really?”

“Mm. I think he’s patrolling, or something.”

“I don’t know why. The guards and the agents wouldn’t miss something he’d see.”

“You never know,” she told him. “The blessing of an Ancient is sure to give you something others might not have. Maybe his sense of smell is sensitive enough to pick up on something someone else wouldn’t notice. Maybe his hearing is sharp enough.” She shrugged.

“Is yours?” Anduin asked.

“Oh, yeah. It’s all been slowly improving since I visited Goldrinn’s shrine in Hyjal.” She smiled lopsidedly at him. “I can smell when you’re aroused, and I can hear your heartbeat stutter when I touch you. I can hear SI:7 prowling the walls in the Keep and I can see in the dark like it’s day.”

“All the time?” Anduin said, smiling. “That sounds exhausting.” To illustrate, he let himself fall back onto the mattress. She’d surely exhausted him last night before they’d gone to sleep, and she imagined he was still a bit sore. She hadn’t been particularly gentle, though she’d been careful. Always, careful with him.

“Almost all the time,” she amended, gathering a plate of food. With her offering in hand, she returned to the bed to feed him. He needed to regain his energy after such a long night.

He ate slowly, his head pillowed on her thigh, content to let her feed him bites of food. “Do you know when they expect Victoria to wake?” he asked.

“Isendir says it’ll be a couple more days,” she answered. “She should wake up just before the convoy gets here for retrieval.”

“So you’ll have time to talk to her.”

“Yeah.” Luciana popped a darkly coloured shoreberry into her mouth. They grew mostly along the banks of the river, an area called the Darkened Bank by the locals. The berries grew on both sides of the water, and in season were soft in texture and flavour, with a tang of sourness. They made a delicious jam, and were considered a must-have in wine and cheese events during spring and summer. “Are you going to spend all day today working?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, an amused smile growing on his face. “Did we come here for something else?”

“You’re still stiff from last night,” she said. “Don’t think I can’t see it.”

“Well, maybe we can switch it around for a change,” he said. She looked down at him, eyebrow raised in consideration.

“That... could be interesting,” she said, gazing up and away into blank space while she thought. “Did you bring an enema?”

“I did.”

“Oh, so you planned it? You little shit.”

He smiled up at her cheekily. “Well, maybe I thought I wouldn’t be working the entire time we’re here. Maybe I thought you could take a break from patrolling the town and checking every individual’s armour and weapons, and spend some quality time with me.”

“Excuse you, I only did that with the militia,” she retorted.

“And the town guards. And the adventurers.”

“So I don’t want them to all die to the rotting undead, sue me.” She shoved a large piece of apple into his mouth and he sat up, laughing as he bit into it.

“I brought a few things. A little fun pack,” he told her, slipping off the bed. She could see his legs were stiff.

“Are you stiff because of last night, or because of your chronic pain?” she asked.

“Last night,” he said easily.

“It could trigger it, though.”

“It could.”

“How can we avoid that?” she prompted. He never spoke on it unless she asked, but at least now he would speak of it at all.

“Hot bath,” he said.

“Before or after we have fun?”

“Either one,” he shrugged, riffling through the things he’d brought with him to Darkshire.

“Before,” she sighed, and rolled off the bed.

She poked her head outside, told Four to send for a hot bath to be drawn, and gave him a short list of things she wanted from the town’s apothecary.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowed his head, and turned to march off.

“And bring some fruit and cheese!” she called after him. “And hot water for tea!”

“Your Highness!” he called up to her from the bottom of the stairs.

Someone came to prepare the bath for them, and then they left quickly without looking up at Luciana. She didn’t join Anduin in the bath. The water was too hot for her to find it pleasant, but he groaned and sank it into gratefully. She presented the things she’d ordered from the apothecary - peacebloom oil she could massage into the muscles that bothered him, bruiseweed oil for his joints, mageroyal and briarthorn essence for the bath, and a small vial labeled ‘heartblossom’. The last one she presented to him silently, and when he saw what it was he smiled softly and nodded, and she set it aside for later.

Luciana rolled up her sleeves, and kneeled next to the bath. She slowly poured the mageroyal and briarthorn essence into the water, gently swirling it with her hand around Anduin’s prone form. “You should let me do this more often,” she said. “Take care of you like this. You can’t push yourself back into a wheelchair when you can avoid it with simple things like hot baths and better sleep.”

“I have too much to do,” he murmured. He’d let his eyes close, and he was slumped against the side of the bath. She smiled gently and picked up the metal cup they’d brought with the bath. She shielded his eyes from the stream with her hand and carefully poured water over his head. When she was satisfied, she gently massaged his scalp and neck. He groaned low in his throat and relaxed into it, sinking even further into the water. She smiled again.

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” she chided gently. “Let me do some of it. I can look over trade quarter reports just as easily as you do. If you’ll recall, I’m an Amadeus.”

“I recall,” he grumbled.

“And I know more than enough about weapons to approve armoury shipments.”

“I know.”

“And I know the military regulations better than you do.”

“I know that, too.”

Luciana gave the water another swirl and left him to soak for a while, wiping her hands off on one of the many towels provided. She looked over the work Anduin had left open and sprawled all over the table, organized it by subject and hid sensitive documents under the more mundane ones. 

The truly secretive ones, she stacked together and tucked into a book, which she then placed in her spare satchel just in case. The bag, she shoved under the bed. If they fell asleep and someone came in looking for the papers, they’d wake Luciana trying to get to them. There were only a few papers in that group, mostly documents with personal information and her correspondence with the capital about Victoria’s injury.

Luciana glanced at the clock regularly while she took care of the hearth fire, adding logs and poking at them until the fire was blazing merrily. After giving Anduin a good twenty minutes she returned to the bathroom. The water was cooling despite the heating runes inscribed on the bath’s exterior. She offered a hand and Anduin let her help him balance while he stepped out of the tub. She held open a wide, soft brown towel, and he stepped into it gratefully and let her wrap it around him. She also wrapped her own arms around him, smiling when he ducked down to kiss her. 

“I’ll let the water out,” she murmured. “Go and put on your house robe, if you want. I stoked the fire already so it should be nice and warm for you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a soft-eyed smile.

It took only a few moments to let out the bathwater. It drained through the pipes which, judging by the marks in the wall, were a recent addition to the house. She stood and listened to the rushing water for a moment.

She stooped down on her way out of the bathroom to pick up the peacebloom oil and the heartblossom essence. Anduin was waiting for her on the bed, lounging naked on top of rumpled sheets. “It’s warm enough for you?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s perfect,” he sighed, opening his eyes to watch her. She didn’t undress, instead going directly to the bed. She knelt on the mattress, motioned for him to move.

“Roll onto your stomach,” she said, and he did so slowly, loose-limbed and relaxed.

She opened the vial of peacebloom oil and poured some into her hands. The oil smoothed over the calluses and even the ones formed into permanent scars on her fingers were slippery and soft. She hoisted a leg over his thighs so that she was over him, knees beside his hips.

He groaned into his pillow when she used the heels of her palms to massage the oil into his lower back. It was most often the part of him that ached at random. Whether he spent the day sitting, standing, or walking, it would often act up in protest. The muscles would cramp, and nothing they did could ease it quickly enough.

She moved up his back, adding a bit more oil when necessary. Then, she massaged it into his shoulders and his neck, and then down his arms. If she couldn’t hear his heart still beating at a regular pace, she’d assume he had fallen asleep.

She moved further down the bed, and took a bit more peacebloom oil in her palms, rubbing them together to spread it over her hands. She worked more of it into his lower back, around his tailbone, and then into his buttocks, and his hips. His thighs, she didn’t doubt, still ached from last night, and she took the time to give the large muscles plenty of care.

His knees, too, often pained him. His left knee especially made him suffer chronically. She finished working the oil into his legs, and then asked him to turn over again. With the last vial, filled with earthroot oil, she massaged his joints. She took care of his knees first, carefully bending them and working them until she was satisfied. Then she moved back up to his hips, not paying any mind to his semi-erect cock. She kept going, taking care to ease the oil delicately into his fingers and wrists, and then massaged it into his elbows and then his shoulders and neck. Last were his ankles and his feet, after which she looked up to see him smiling serenely, eyes almost shut, watching her sleepily.

The room had a heady scent in it now. The heat of the fire had spread the soft, floral scent of peacebloom and the warm smell of earthroot throughout the room. She inhaled it deeply. It was a relaxing scent, to be sure, and she imagined it would be easy for Anduin to fall asleep right now.

That wasn’t her goal, not quite. She moved from the bed, feeling it spring up without her oppressive weight bearing down on it. There was a tray of cheese and fruit with a cloth over it to keep it fresh, which they’d enjoy after. Next to that was a kettle of still very hot water with two teacups, cream, and sugar. She poured the water, half filling the cups, and filled them the rest of the way with the tiny vial of heartblossom essence.

Heartblossom could do many things to the body, few of them pleasant. If not treated correctly, it could cause heart palpitations, increased blood pressure, dizziness, and even heart failure. Luciana let a few drops fall onto the pad of her fingers and pressed it to her tongue, and waited. It was better to test it on her, first. She could recover much more easily from its negative side effects. Her heart, she knew, had seen much worse than palpitations. Her blood pressure was always high, anyway. She was built for it.

Nothing happened at first, and she let fall a few drops of the essence into the cups in even amounts. Five drops each, since she’d already had three. Her metabolism would work through it faster than Anduin's, and she would need the extra dosage.

Her pulse started to pound in her ears first, and then in her crotch, and she smiled. It was working properly, then. By the time she reached the bed her face was hot and there was a pleasant buzzing in her skin.

“I tested it,” she murmured, giving Anduin his cup when he was sitting up. “It’s fine. Not much flavour, though.”

He smiled. “That’s what sugar is for, love,” he told her, and then took a sip of his drink. He made a face. “You’re right. It’s like... well, it’s like water, but with a single drop of fruit juice.”

She smiled, and drank at the same rate as Anduin. When he was done she held out her hand for his cup, which he handed over without a word. She returned them to the table, and within the few moments she took to do so, the rest of the heartblossom hit her system and sent a thrill through her gut, straight to her crotch. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said under her breath. She had to take a moment to regain her bearings, her hands braced on the table. It creaked under her weight. “Is it working, Anduin?”

“It’s working,” he confirmed, and she raised her nose and sniffed. His scent had thickened already, gone from honey to syrup, from paper to rich damp wood. She grinned.


	19. Interlude: Victoria

Luciana had given orders to everyone involved that when Victoria woke, she was to be alerted immediately. She was therefore unsurprised when a nervous-looking local came to find her in the Town Hall, where she’d been again speaking with Mayor Ello Ebonlocke.

“I’ve been sent with a message,” the young man said, eyes darting to Ello as though searching for reassurance.

“What is it?” Luciana asked, keeping her voice low more for the boy’s sake than anything.

“Uh, Victoria is awake?” he half-asked, unsure.

“Right. Thank you,” she said with a nod. She dug into her pants pocket, and pressed a silver coin into his palm. “That will be all.”

“Thank you!” he said, eyes brightening. He bowed hurriedly, and messily, and then practically ran away.

“Odd boy,” Luciana commented, watching him go. She turned to Ello. “I’m needed elsewhere, it seems. We’ll continue this later.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

She adopted a rapid, intent pace. That coupled with her expression, which seemed more like a scowl than the resting face it actually was, prevented anyone from stalling her. No one wanted to approach an apparently aggravated warrior, least of all one who was also the Princess of Stormwind.

Neither Teagan nor Four bothered to question her when she returned earlier than expected, obviously aware of her imminent arrival. Four merely reached out and opened the door for her, and she paused in the doorway. She knew her frame likely filled it completely.

Isendir looked up. He’d taken up a vigil next to Victoria for the past few days, intent on seeing her healed. “Your Highness,” he intoned, bowing his head. “I will return soon,” he said to Victoria, who smiled weakly and raised her arm just enough to wiggle her fingers in a wave.

Luciana shut the door behind her, and moved slowly to take the chair the night elf had vacated. “Hey, Luce,” Victoria whispered.

“Hey, Vic,” she greeted, taking the woman’s hand. Her colour was better, at least, though it still lacked the richness it had held before. “How’re you feeling?”

“Lighter.”

Luciana rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You know, I nearly told Jillian she’d have to look after you until you got your feet under you.”

Victoria chuckled weakly, though it was more a gasp than a laugh. “That’s a good one,” she wheezed.

“I thought you might like it,” Luciana said with a tight smile. Her hand was large and wide enough to completely encase Victoria’s hand. There was nearly a foot of height difference between them standing and Luciana had always found Victoria small, but still powerfully built. Now, she looked frail. Luciana chewed the inside of her cheek absently. “How are you feeling, really?”

“I feel off, Cap.”

Luciana blinked, and then sighed. “Really?”

Victoria smiled weakly. “I had to.”

“Right. Answer the question, Vic.”

Her eyes shuttered and she turned her head away to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t feel good, Luce. I don’t feel good at all. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t do anything on my own if I can’t even walk.”

“Ride a horse everywhere,” Luciana suggested.

“Four legs instead of two? Maybe I can get them to graft me onto a horse. Become a centaur and terrorize the countryside.”

“Four legs are better than two.”

“Yeah. Homemade mounted cavalry. Speaking of, you were a terror out there.”

“I know.”

“Makes me glad you’re on our side.”

“I don’t feel I was then, Vic. It’s hard to keep myself on a track when I’m berserking.”

“Yeah. You managed, though. Took a bit of prodding. But you managed.”

“Yeah.”

Luciana reached up and pulled the blankets a bit higher on Victoria’s prone form, tucking them in at her neck. “You did good, Luce,” Victoria rasped. “No way would I become a feral.”

“It was the only acceptable outcome,” Luciana said. “I wasn’t willing to let you become a feral worgen and roam the woods. I wasn’t going to let you simply bleed to death from the wounds, or wait and then kill you as a feral.”

“You left me the horn, too. That was good thinking.”

“It wasn’t thinking, really. I don’t know what it was. My training, maybe. Or instinct. I nearly killed Jillian.”

“I heard. You didn’t.”

“I nearly did.”

“But you didn’t. Can’t change the past, Luce. Just gotta live with the present. Mind scratching my neck?” Luciana reached out, and Victoria rolled her head. “Other side. Thanks.”

Luciana smiled tightly and drew her arm back. “No problem. I am sorry, Vic, for what it’s worth. I’m sorry it was necessary at all.”

“Ah, shit happens,” Victoria said.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t dislike it.”

“Yeah. I know.” Luciana saw movement from beneath the blanket. Victoria had been left with only a few inches of each leg. The stumps moved under the sheets. “That’s gonna take some getting used to. Your man did a fel of a job, by the way. Took all of five seconds to stop the bleeding completely.”

“He’s a very skilled healer,” Luciana confirmed. “Took a good few months to get his stamina up to where he could heal more than two broken bones, but once we did he was unstoppable.”

“That’s good. A good thing to have.” Victoria coughed, settled down. “Isendir’s nice. You should look into getting him into Amadeus. He’s a feral druid, you know, cat form ‘n stuff. He can talk to animals and shapeshift and stealth.”

“We’ll see.”

“You’ll need someone like that, who can replace Jill,” Victoria continued. “Maybe you can get a warrior for my place. A tank. We never did get a tank.”

“We’ll see.”

“I heard I’m going to the Amadeus manor. Des is gonna have his hands full with me and Jill.”

“He’ll manage. He’s tougher than he looks.”

“That doesn’t say much.”

Luciana smiled. “He’s an Amadeus. We’re good with planning. He’ll get you whatever you need.”

“And Jill?”

“He’ll get her what she needs, too.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Don’t hold back from them, Vic. You have to let them take care of you, especially now. You deserve better, much better, than what you think you do.”

Victoria looked up at her with dark, tired eyes. “I don’t like being helpless, Luce.”

“You’re never helpless. But you can be vulnerable, just like everyone else.”

“Not you.”

Luciana smiled grimly. “Even me. I just have more riding on my shoulders than you do, and fewer people I can let myself be vulnerable with. Let them take care of you. They care for you, Vic. Let them. Promise me you’ll let them help you. Don’t hide from them, don’t try to do everything yourself, and don’t hold everything inside.”

“I promise.”

“Good. I expect you to keep it. Amadeus squadron doesn’t break its promises.” Luciana ignored the irony of asking for such a promise.

“Not even after months of torture.”

“Right.” Luciana rubbed her thumb over Victoria’s knuckles. She watched as the woman’s eyes tried to close, and watched as she fought them back open. “I have to know, Vic.”

“What?” she mumbled.

“Did I fail you? By leading you into a situation like that, where cutting off your legs was necessary, did I break your trust? Did I fail you?”

“Naw, you didn’t,” she muttered. Her eyes were closed now and she could hardly talk past the exhaustion of extensive healing. “I’m the one who followed.”

“I should have led you to safety, not to... to this.”

“Can’t lead to something ain’t existing,” Victoria mumbled. Luciana didn’t respond. Victoria needed to sleep, and as long as Luciana kept talking she would stay awake.


	20. Warrior's Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some smut

The convoy from Stormwind arrived only half a day later. They had a dwarven-made carriage with shock absorbers on the axels, meant to minimize the trouble caused by bumpy or uneven roads. The carriage was also well-padded and looked comfortable enough to sleep in, which Luciana supposed Victoria would be doing plenty of. She was still completely spent, her body’s stores of energy having been used up completely by the healing of her legs. Blood vessels had been remade, infection had been fought off, and the trauma had sent her into shock. Recovering from that had apparently also been a fight.

She let Luciana put her into a wheelchair and drape a blanket over her lap, but she refused to be carried anywhere and it was a fight to convince her to let them wheel her around. “You need to keep your energy for recovery,” Luciana reasoned. “Pushing yourself around town isn’t going to help you get there.”

“Get where?” Victoria had retorted. “I ain’t walking anywhere!”

Luciana didn’t let the sting show, and she could tell Victoria had regretted her words almost immediately. She’d realized, right after, how her words had sounded. As a result, she let Luciana wheel her around to meet the convoy just outside of town. Jillian paced alongside them in worgen form, silent and watchful.

The two were packed into the carriage, and Luciana drew aside the Knight Lieutenant who’d been sent with their Company from Westbrook Garrison. “Take very good care of them,” she warned the nervous man. “They are my squad mates. If anything happens to them I will be angrier than you can imagine.”

“Your Highness, I won’t let anything happen,” he swore immediately. “By the King’s honour, we’ll see them safe to Stormwind.”

“You’ll see them safe to the very gates of the Amadeus manor,” she corrected. “Until they’re safely ensconced in its walls, with Lord Desmond Amadeus, you will stay with them.”

“Yes, Sir!” he said sharply, back straight.

“Go. And keep in mind that I am entrusting two of my squad mates to you and your soldiers.”

“Sir!”

Satisfied that they’d be safe on their journey, Luciana stood in parade rest at the edge of town and watched the procession. A well-armoured, relatively undecorated carriage, surrounded by Imperial soldiers, led by a straight-backed Knight Lieutenant. All rode proud Stormwind Chargers, and the coach was pulled by two heavyweight Westfall Workers. They were the largest horse bred in the Eastern Kingdoms, and while they weren’t good for long runs, they could walk while pulling for days on end.

When they were a good ways off from Darkshire, Luciana turned to go back to the house. She’d left Anduin in the bed, loose-limbed and content to sleep a while longer. She wanted to go back to him, curl up against him. She wanted to crawl under his skin, into his ribcage, into the sound of his heart and his voice rumbling in his chest, the smell of honeysuckle and spice tea on his skin, and into his Light, oh, she wanted to sleep forever in his Light. It was clean and pure and fiery and burned away everything else, everything that didn’t matter.

When he’d pulled her out of the berserking, when he’d pulled her into him chest, he’d let the Light wash into her. For a brief moment she’d felt completely lost in it, unable to tell where she ended and the Light began. It had been a completely shock to her system, had knocked her right out of the berserk, had calmed her fury from a raging fire to a spark in a single moment. And for just a handful of seconds she’d been completely, blessedly, terrifyingly still.

She wanted that. She needed that silence, the complete standstill he imposed on the world, on her body, when he held her. When his Light ran through her right to her core, right to the dark place where her fury lived, right through it and out the other side. She’d been still, silent, unmoving, and she could – for only a brief moment – nearly feel what she fancied was his soul. She’d never been that close to someone, not even to Anduin, not before that moment.

His bare skin was soft under her ragged palm. She brushed her hand over his spine and it curved under her touch. His voice rumbled in his chest in a groan, and he stretched his back, letting out a satisfied sigh. His Light tickled at her palms, into the meat of them, and she pressed a line of kisses softer than moth wings along the path of her touch.

“Lucy,” Anduin sighed, letting her move him. It took only a wide hand on his ribs, and he rolled onto his side obediently. It presented an unmarred expanse of sun kissed brown skin, Light-blessed flesh that she reverently touched with a deceptively gentle hand. She pressed kisses, some whisper-soft, some open-mouthed and desperate, to his skin. “Luciana,” he breathed. She could see a smile curving his lips, his eyes still closed. He was content to let her touch him, worship him. She mouthed a prayer along his skin.

Let me be still again. Bring me back to that place, where I can’t see myself, where I can’t hear myself screaming. Hold me again, bring me that peace. Make it stop. I will do anything you ask, I will do anything for you. I will live for you, only for you. Let me be still. Let me stop fighting. Bring me out of this darkness. Bring me home.f Anduin wet his lips, rolled onto his back and presented his stomach. Luciana’s hands were callused, scarred, wide like a bear’s paws, but they were gentle on him. Careful, always careful with him. She brushed fingers that broke steel along the line of his hips, pressed a mouth that bit out throats and swallowed blood to the contours of his abdomen. His hands were gentle, tugging at her hair persuasively as she leaned over him, her breath tickling at the hair on his chest, her dry lips teasing at his throat.

“Lucy,” he sighed. Her mouth was at his throat, open against it, and she felt him swallow thickly. “Luciana.” His voice reverberated against her tongue. She wanted to consume him, swallow his beautiful voice and take it into her ribs and let it echo there for hours, days on end.

She brushed her hand over his skin, over his stomach and his hips. She wasn’t yet sure if he wanted her to keep at it, to keep touching him and pressing kisses to every part of him she could reach, every line, every soft spot, or if he wanted to be inside her as badly as she needed him to be inside her, in her gut, in the place where her fury roiled when she was challenged.

She kept touching him. She didn’t know how long this would last. She had no idea how long she could last. She wanted, needed to take in as much of him as she could while she was still alive to thank him.

His breath caught when she went back down, to his stomach, and pressed her mouth to the supple skin that rose and fell with his breath. She glanced up - his eyelids were fluttering, his mouth was parted, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and he pulled in his lower lip to bite it. Luciana slid her hand from his ribs to his hip, down, and then across and under and gently drew it along the underside of his cock. He made a noise, the slightest of whimpers, and his cock twitched in her hand.

Luciana rested her other hand against his stomach, weighty and hot, and bent down to mouth at the side of his cock. It twitched again, hardening under her careful ministrations, always careful with him, always, always, and her free hand held it up until it was hard enough to stand on its own. She licked, kissed, gently sucked on the satin-soft skin on its underside. “Oh, Light,” he moaned quietly. “Oh, Lucy.” 

His leg shifted beside her. He was trying to adjust himself, spread his legs a bit wider, give her easier access - open himself to her. She was patient, kept her attention where he obviously wanted it to stay, and he moved. He bent his knees, spread them wide, rolled his hips up and let them settle again on the bed. When he was comfortable he was completely open to her, vulnerable, and she thanked him by licking a hard, hot line from the base of his cock to its tip.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasped. It sounded like she’d punched the air from his lungs, but even with that he was vocal like he always was. “Lucy, love. Luciana.” He brushed a hand through his hair, taking it out of his face as he luxuriated in the feeling of her mouth on him.

Her name had, years ago, sounded like a prayer that fell from his lips. A benediction. It sounded like that now, or perhaps it only felt like it, but it was a lovely sound, a lovely thing to hear, so soft and unquestioningly trusting. An invitation, signed with another languid, wanton roll of his hips.

She kept her hand, her mouth gentle on him, even when he moaned, whimpered and pleaded wordlessly for more. “Luciana. Love, it feels good... oh,” his voice jumped. She’d taken only the head into the inside of her cheek, only for a moment, and his cock twitched and she took her hand from his stomach, leaving it cold. “Lucy, please...! Oh, Light, Lucy,” he panted. He was looking at her now, eyes half-open but bright, two sapphire werelights intent on her face, on her mouth, her hand. “Luciana,” he breathed. His hair was splayed messily on his pillow, a golden mess against the soft white linen. He liked being vocal, she recalled. Perhaps it was because she always reacted to it.

She took him in her mouth, surrounded his hypersensitive cock with heat and wetness, and he moaned and let his head loll to the side. She could see, when she glanced up for a quick moment, that he was smiling now, letting his lips curve up in gratification. She used her mouth, her hands, all parts of her that had been built to hurt and bleed things, to bring him pleasure, satisfaction.

 _I will do anything for you. I will worship you. I will follow you. I will sing your name with reverence, obedience, I will wrap a chain around my neck and hand you the lead and let you drag me over the rocks, until I am still, until you drag me out of the darkness._ She said this with her hands, her tongue, her mouth, hummed as she worked, and his gut tightened under her teasing fingers. His voice came from his chest, strangled and desperate, and he came into her mouth, her throat. She could feel his stomach, even his back tensing, coiling up like a spring and when it was over, the tension broke and he slumped, satisfied, and she gently, slowly leaned back.

His mouth was open, lips reddened, ears and cheeks and chest blushing brightly. His chest rose and fell quickly and she could hear his heart still racing, hear his breath just barely hiding a moan. She licked her lips, tasting salt and cum, and leaned down to press her mouth to his sweaty skin.

“Lucy,” he breathed. “Oh, Lucy.”

His hands were gentle in her hair, against her neck, on her shoulders like it was natural, easy. His hands on her skin pulled her up because she followed them, didn’t want to let them leave her skin. They led her to where he could draw her in, into a soft kiss. His heart was slowing now, his breaths following it and Luciana rolled down into him. Her hips, her stomach and chest leaned against him, pressing down, her weight over him, and still he pulled, not satisfied until she was fully against him, nearly crushing him to the bed, completely enveloping him and pushing into him.

“I love you,” she said, quiet. Quieter than she knew her voice could be. It was thunder, she was lightning, striking fast and shaking everyone to their core when she hit. Today, now, she was not thunder, she was not a hurricane. She was something she didn’t want to recognize. She’d once said that Anduin would open her, and she didn’t know what would come out. It was out, now, had been for a while, and she still didn’t know what it was. But she was it. For him. Always, always for him.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. It was still early in the day. They could stay in bed. Really, no one could tell them otherwise, not unless they wanted to involve the King, somehow convince him that his two overworked, overstressed and scarred children didn’t deserve a short break. But no one would do that. No one could. And she would keep him there, warm and safe and content, for as long as she could.


	21. Return to Stormwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ain't dead yet, though my vertigo is making me wish I was.

The return of Luciana’s group to Stormwind was announced before their arrival. They entered the city on the backs of several powerful, black-winged gryphons. Luciana and Anduin, of course, rode their own decorated mounts, while Four and Teagan were placed astride plainer ones with what few packs they had.

On Anduin’s suggestion they made their return into a procession, one where they could allow citizens of the city to interact almost personally with them. Shouts were flung at them, occasional questions as well. Some, Luciana answered. The citizens were held back by the presence of City Guards, as well as the sheer force of Luciana’s eyes. Hers was not a welcoming gaze. It was light on her people, protective and bright, but still aloof, distant. She was not their friend - Anduin was, but she was their leader, cold and calculating. 

The people who heard her speak spread word that the Prince and Princess had been in Darkshire to give desperately needed aid to their cousins in Duskwood. She expected commission reports to start coming in by the next day, carrying the names of eager adventurers.

They were also greeted in the Keep by a small crowd of servants and Royal Guards who were eager to welcome them. Teagan and Four split off from the group when their two Royal charges were safely in the grand halls of the castle to report to the Captain of the Royal Guard. After a long two weeks, they’d be relieved from duty and receive a few days off to rest.

Luciana left Anduin to take care of the greetings when an SI:7 agent discreetly passed her a message. A tiny, folded letter was pressed into her hand and she saw a flash of bright green eyes. It was a woman by the name of Breanne whom Luciana recognized from previous reports and patrols.

Luciana leaned over to whisper in Anduin’s ear that she was needed elsewhere, and that she’d leave the nobility in his capable hands. As always, they swarmed the Royals, seeking information that could give them a leg up while trying simultaneously to curry favour.

She dropped the note absently in a wall sconce after reading it. The paper lit up with bright mage-flames as she passed. The War Room was waiting for her.

“Yer Highness,” she was greeted upon her arrival. She stopped in the doorway and looked around the room almost lazily, but her eyes were sharp. Mithras Ironhill, a stocky and pale-bearded dwarf, bowed low. “It’s good to see ye on glad ground again. We’ve been waitin’ for ye.”

“So I heard,” she said, entering the room. The Royal Guards stationed there saluted her crisply, only breaking their usual stances for a moment. The two Battlemasters currently on duty, Devin Fardale and Alison Devay, also saluted her.

She acknowledged them with a slow nod, and then turned to the Imperial courier standing out of the way in the corner. “Your Highness,” he said, saluting her hurriedly. “Scout Valdez. I’ve come with a message from Commander Celia and His Majesty, the King.”

“Speak, then,” Luciana said, settling back on her heels beside the War Map. She raised her chin slightly, as though to indicate she was not moving.

“Your Highness, Commander Celia reports that the full-scale raid of Hellfire Citadel was a success. I have here a full account of our casualties. Most of them have already been moved out of the Cathedral, but the city doesn’t have a large enough medical ward to house them all so they’re in temporary shelters for now. The Commander was hoping you’d be able to expedite the process, seeing as our soldiers have been fighting fel orcs and Iron war engines for months now and the injured still need care. The severe cases are still in the Cathedral and healing efforts are ongoing. There’s also a report, here, on what healers we have on duty, as well as some volunteers from all over the Alliance. There are also a number of draenei from Draenor who’ve come back with our soldiers, looking to help the healing efforts. The Commander suggests you find their Azerothian counterparts and register them under alternate names to avoid confusion.”

Luciana held out her hand for the reports, and the scout handed them over immediately.

“His Majesty also reports that the raid was a success. I have a sealed letter here for you, and one also for the Prince,” he said, giving her those as well. “He will be remaining in Draenor, in the Commander’s garrison and in Ashran, for the next two weeks to help direct recovery efforts in Tanaan, after which he’ll return here to Stormwind. He also had a more, ah... personal message,” Scout Valdez said, giving the others in the room a wary glance. 

Luciana moved to stand next to him, near the corner of the wall and the bookshelf. “What is it?” she murmured lowly.

She could hardly hear his response. “He says that he expects to see his granddaughter running in his halls soon, Your Highness.”

She smiled grimly. “Return to him, then, and tell him that he will.”

“Princess.”

“Anything else to report?” she asked, stepping back to her place near the War Map.

“No, Princess.”

“Good. Find the Prince, in the Throne Room, and give him a brief report. Afterward, I have no further need of you.”

“Princess.” He saluted her, clacking his metal-booted heels together noisily as he brought his hand to his forehead. He slipped out of the War Room a moment later, and she turned back to the War Map in the center of the room.

“The situation in Darkshire has changed,” she announced, placing her left hand flat on the edge of the massive wooden table and leaning part of her weight on it. She was still wearing her armour, save for her helm which she’d removed earlier and left with a wide-eyed Squire. The table creaked under her palm. “One of the three greater packs, the Emerald Hills pack, has been annihilated. The other two are, for now, cautious, but it won’t last forever. Certainly not more than a year.”

She looked up, and Battlemaster Alison Devay spoke up first. “A Call to Arms, then, Your Highness?” she suggested.

“As well as officially sanctioned use of feral worgen parts and live _feral_ worgen for biochanics research,” Luciana replied. “There will be grants available soon for those who wish to excel and find glory in that field.”

“Biochanics?” Alison asked. “Prosthetics?”

“Yes. Technology made to replace lost limbs, damaged spines or skulls, and hopefully one day damaged organs as well,” Luciana answered. “I expect that after spending so much time creating weapons for war, the gnomes of Gnomeregan and the healers of the Alliance will be eager to try their hands at something new. Something that can reverse the damage done by war. Battlemaster Devay, I’ll leave Darkshire to you,” she continued, glancing up to meet Alison’s gaze. The Battlemaster immediately looked down at the War Map, and nodded. “A Call to Arms, and the sanction, should be enough for now. You know what to do. Make it appealing.”

“Your Highness.”

“Dismissed. Mithras, you have contacts still in Ironforge, yes?”

“Of course!” he replied with an enthusiastic nod. “An’ in Gnomeregan an’ the Explorer’s League, too!”

“Pass word along to them, and to the Exodar, that Stormwind is eager to advance biochanics, for soldiers and soon for civilians as well. We want easy to maintain, relatively cheap, and highly durable and dependable prosthetics that won’t leave their users with limps and deformations after just a few years. Our soldiers deserve better, and they will have it.”

“Yer Highness,” he bowed, confirming his orders. “Ye mentioned grants?”

“Yes, I did. Withinthe next few months, there will be supply and monetary grants available to whoever can prove that their ideas are most promising. To Prince Anduin,” she stressed, “as well as a small committee of people with relevant knowledge and experience.”

“I’ll get it done,” he promised.

“Good. Dismissed. Battlemaster Fardale.”

“Sir!”

“You have news on Ashenvale for me?”

“Sir!”

Luciana glanced at Mithras, who had lingered in the room while trying to stack a dozen scrolls in his arms. At Luciana’s apparent annoyance a Royal Guard immediately stepped in to help, to clear the room faster. Luciana’s lips quirked up at the left corner in a slight, brief-lived smile.

She listened to Devin’s report, asked questions to get a better idea of what the Horde’s behaviour could mean. Finally, she nodded once, with finality. “Understood, Fardale. Thank you for your report. I’ll need to think on it, but for now, I want holding patterns and continued surveillance.”

“Sir!”

“And pass word along that after nearly being invaded by an alternate timeline, Stormwind is showing interest in finding a way to avoid another double-fronted war.”

“Sir!” he said, and then seemed to have doubts. He frowned, and spoke again. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“Sir, are you talking about... peace with the Horde?”

“I am.”

“Ah,” he said wisely, and then frowned again. “Sir, if you don’t mind?”

“I don’t.”

“Is peace with the Horde really our best option?”

Luciana looked up at him. “Do you have an issue with my orders, Battlemaster?”

“Of course not, Sir!”

“Then why do you question them?”

“I don’t, Sir!”

“You seem reluctant to follow them.”

“I am not, Sir!”

“Then, answer me this. Why would you not want peace?”

“The Horde is our enemy, Sir,” he replied uneasily. Her gaze was apparently unnerving to him, but to his credit he was not cowed - not completely.

“The Horde is our enemy because we are their enemy. After Hellfire Citadel fell only because of our combined might, they have taken a step back - as have we. Notice that the number of regular casualties in battlegrounds across Azeroth have fallen these past few years, while we were busy in Draenor.”

“But, in Ashran...”

“Ashran is a contested area, yes, but there are far greater numbers of adventurers and champions who were and are much more concerned with the true threat of the Iron Horde, and its machinations. Do you know much about demons, Battlemaster?”

“Well, yes, Sir, a bit,” he stuttered, caught off-guard by her sudden question.

“Do you know why we fear them?”

“Because they spread corruption, Sir.”

“Yes, and what else?”

“S-Sir?”

“They do not stop, Battlemaster. Not until they’re dead and destroyed. The Burning Legion does not abandon its hunts. They chased the draenei for uncountable years, destroyed hundreds of worlds in their pursuit. And now, they are coming here.”

“What? To Azeroth?”

“I have no doubt in my mind that one day, and a day that is not far off, they will try to take Azeroth as they took the draenei’s home world of Argus, and countless other worlds. We must be ready for that. We could hardly fight off the Iron Horde and its monstrous, _demonic_ allies because we were also fighting the Horde. What will happen if the Legion arrives while Azeroth is split down the middle?”

“Sir?”

“Nothing good, Battlemaster. So, I say again. Do you have an issue with my orders?”

“No, Sir!”

“Then follow them,” she growled, and he did look away at that. “I expect a report on Ashenvale and the surrounding areas on my desk within a week, Battlemaster. I do not expect correspondence with Darnassus, but if you manage to wrangle some of the night elves into possible peace talks with the Horde, I will be impressed.”

“Sir!”

“Dismissed.”

He followed the steps of the first Battlemaster, out of the War Room. Luciana turned to its final official occupant. “Agent,” she greeted.

“Your Highness.”

“Walk with me.”

Jasper Fel was an agent of the SI:7 she recognized by face and by voice. Now, she could recognize him by smell, as well. He’d been one of the ones to bring her to her honeymoon location, and also the one who’d delivered messages between her and Helliah Shadowstep that were too sensitive for the regular postal service. Helliah was the governor of Westfall, officially its Prime Minister, and had thus far kept her promise to Luciana - to keep her Shadow business and her Westfall business separate. Whatever interest she had in the province, it was clear that she wanted the Royal House to stay out of her personal business more than she wanted trouble. That made her willing to cooperate, and negotiate instead of take.

Jasper led her to an unused meeting room. Luciana could tell it was a private area, for the moment. She couldn’t hear any SI:7 in the walls, nor guards out in the hall.

“Helliah sends her regards, and her well-wishes for your squad mate,” Jasper started, reaching up to pull his facemask down. It fell limp around his neck, leaving his face bare for the moment. It was smart of him. Everyone knew that Luciana disliked when people hid their faces while speaking to her - Anduin and Varian shared her dislike of it. It was too easy to lie, to hide things, to manipulate and scheme when people couldn’t see your face.

“What else does Helliah send?” Luciana asked, somewhat dryly.

“She sends information.” She saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Freely, for the one who gave her Westfall.”

“The King gave her Westfall.”

“At your word.”

“True enough. Speak, then.”

“Helliah has taken great pains to drive Wrathion to Prince Anduin and, by extension, to you. She believes that you can expand his worldview enough that should the day come when his unique abilities are needed to prevent the fate he himself foresaw, he will be a great asset in the defense of Azeroth.”

“I see,” Luciana said. Her voice was deceptively soft. “And did Helliah also take great pains to deliver another disguised black dragon to the Court of Stormwind?”

“Helliah is aware of the history,” Jasper said. “She apologizes for the inconvenience it caused, but insists that Wrathion’s presence here will be for the better.”

“What does Helliah know that has her so concerned with black dragons?”

Jasper remained passive, even in the face of Luciana’s growing irritation. “That will soon be revealed. For now, she says it should be enough to know that she does not seek to harm Stormwind nor Azeroth as a whole. And, as by your word she was given Westfall, she will actively avoid it despite any minor inconveniences it may cause her.”

“How kind of her,” Luciana drawled. “Perhaps one day I will visit Westfall, myself, and try to find what’s gotten her so caught up in it.”

“She would welcome your visit, Your Highness.”

Luciana hummed, absently fingering Oathkeeper’s wolf-head pommel. “So. It was Helliah who hunted Wrathion to the point that he was willing to house with the constant threat of strangulation and dismemberment. By a mortal, no less.”

Jasper didn’t respond verbally, but there was a flicker of wariness in his eyes that was just enough to satisfy Luciana.

“She will be expecting me to keep this to myself, I imagine, for the foreseeable future. I imagine, also, that she is aware that my foreseeable future is not long.”

“She did not speak on it,” Jasper said when Luciana fell silent, obviously expecting a response.

“Of course not,” Luciana said evenly. “Tell Shadowstep that if I visit Westfall wearing a pair of black wyrmskin boots, she’ll know where they came from.”

“Your Highness.”

“And tell her that the next time she sends me a black dragon, she can find it for its report in the Ironforge museum, near the other skeletons of rare creatures.”

“Your Highness, Helliah does not receive reports from Wrathion.”

“I don’t imagine she does,” Luciana smiled. “But she receives reports from someone. You, perhaps. Wallcrawlers. Royal Guards. If she wants me to raise her whelps, she should tell me so. Otherwise I might tear their throats out for ruining my family lunches with their vile presence.” She bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile, and Jasper grew uneasy. “Go, Jasper. Tell Shadowstep that this is the only time I’ll allow her to plant a black dragon in my court, and only because it was a dragon lucky enough to have history with my husband.”

“Your Highness.”

“I’ll await her report on the state of Westfall’s ground,” Luciana continued. “And the progress of the Shadow Watchers, and the reparations of Sentinel Hill.”

“Your Highness.”

“Dismissed.”

Jasper pulled the mask back up over his nose s he made for the door. Luciana caught his wrist as he passed her. He looked at her with guarded eyes.

“I do not like being toyed with, Jasper,” she murmured. Her fury made her breath short for a moment, and she knew that her eyes had flashed with amber light when Jasper’s eyes widened a fraction, and she felt his pulse jump in his wrist. “Whatever Helliah’s game, make sure she knows that a leash can be pulled from either end.”

“Your Highness.”

She released his wrist, turned her back for a moment, and when she looked again he was gone. Disappeared, she knew, into the shadows of the city.


	22. Varian's Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still aliiiiiive though I have lost most of my motivation for this fic. I haven't even posted all that I have written, I'm just tired. I reached a point where I drew a blank. like how the hell do I write a coronation holy shit maybe I'll just skip it
> 
> Also I went back and fixed some things in Amadeus, specifically in ch 11-12 and some around there. Made it clearer why Luciana seems to do a sudden 180 and why she reacts so badly to Frederic's death. Not that that wouldn't draw a strong reaction from anyone else...

Stormwind City welcomed Varian home with fanfare and celebrations. He was accompanied into its streets by the acclaimed Commander Celia Flameheart, whose experrience ean precise planning had helped fell the Iron Horde. And though Gul’dan has escaped, his great Hellfire Citadel had fallen.

He was welcomed home, to the Keep, with simpler means. Luciana let Bolvar and Alaric get down from their perches against her chest, and they ran to Varian to greet him excitedly. While their grandfather kneeled stiffly to let them hug him around the neck, Luciana watched. His knees were bothering him now more than ever, and when he straightened he moved slowly. His back, too, pained him now. The lines around his eyes were deeper than she remembered from only last year.

Anduin approached his father when the twins were distracted by Celia and her kaldorei companion. They’d seen plenty of night elves around the city, and around the castle, but to actually meet one who seemed interested in entertaining them was a new thing. The Commander of Lunarfall was not an overly emotional sort, Luciana knew, but she was patient and friendly enough to the Royal Princes while they tried to crawl all over her and her friend.

“Welcome home,” Luciana greeted, coming up to stand next to Anduin. Varian had just released him from a tight hug. At her words, he reached out to hug her as well. She let him pull her close, wrapped her arms tightly around his wide back and smiled against his shoulder. This, at least, was familiar. Safe. His scent hadn’t changed. Wildflowers and thick tree sap, dry earth and old growth. And there was a tinge of something wild to his scent, something furious and alert - Goldrinn’s influence.

“Thank you,” Varian murmured, his voice tired and worn but warm, gladdened. He pulled away, hands on her shoulders to keep her close still. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied shortly. “What about you? You look worn out. Old.”

“I am,” he grumbled. “I think it’s about time for me to retire. And where’s Freya?” he asked, glancing at Anduin. “I thought she’d be back here running wild by now.”

“We’re going to get her soon,” Anduin promised, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Varian’s back. Luciana could feel his Light indirectly as it wormed into Varian’s sore muscles, easing the ache she knew he felt. She saw the grateful smile he gave his son at the temporary relief. “Next week, I believe?” he said, looking to Luciana for confirmation. She had been the one to contact the Exodar, and Enaeon, about their daughter’s return to Stormwind. She hadn’t made firm plans as of yet, still awaiting a third reply message from the Prophet Velen, but she nodded anyway.

“After the city has a bit of time to settle down and get used to having you back at the helm, we’ll go,” she said. “I’d like to do it before any kind of announcement is made.”

“You won’t be able to leave the city after we make one,” Varian commented. He lifted one hand from Luciana’s shoulder and used it to pull Anduin into his side, holding him tightly and securely. “You’d best hurry, though. I want to see my granddaughter before I’m completely grey,” he joked.

“You’re not grey,” Anduin said.

“Well, he is a little bit,” Luciana said with a smile, gesturing to her own hair. “At the temples, you can see it.”

“Fuck off,” Varian growled, pulling Luciana to his other side and giving her a squeeze. “Just let me be happy to be home. And preferably, let me go lie down. My back is killing me.”

“I can hear your knees,” Luciana commented.

“And my knees,” he sighed. He started to walk, and was obviously fully prepared for his two children to draw away and walk on their own, or perhaps with each other. Luciana instinctively stepped forward with him, the motions too similar to a marching practice exercise from the Academy to ignore, and Anduin also moved with them to keep pace with his family. Varian’s steps faltered for a moment in surprise, but he recovered and smiled secretively and kept moving.

“Freya will be in Stormwind soon,” Luciana promised.

“Though it might be good for her to stay in the Exodar, with the Naaru,” Anduin said.

“It will be good for her to be with her family, in her home,” Luciana argued.

“No fighting until I’ve had a bath,” Varian interrupted, and Luciana heard Anduin sighed. They hadn’t fought about it, but they had argued for hours about where Freya should stay. They’d even heard from some nobles who thought it best for her to go to Northshire, where she could be raised a meek and polite Lady. Luciana had immediately shot them a dark, feral, and wide-eyed look that had silenced the entire House of Nobles on the matter for a full four days. Her daughter would never be forced into that mould. Four days was a new personal record for her. “I heard about Victoria,” Varian continued. “I’m sorry to hear it. Have you found replacements yet?”

“No, though I’ve got a few people I’m looking at,” Luciana replied. “Anduin has suggested I pick up a shield-bearing paladin for the squadron. Victoria also thinks I should replace her with a tank.”

“And there was the night elf, Isendir,” Anduin added. “Feral druid.”

“You spoke to him, yeah?”

“Yes. He has played the part of scout before, and is already quite good at stealthing. And you know as a feral druid, his senses are sharp. In cat form, they’d be better than a worgen’s. He can also serve as an auxiliary healer.”

“No doubt,” Luciana replied. They were in the Royal Wing now, and she could hear the pattering of the twins’ shoed feet along the carpeted floors. She ducked out of Varian’s embrace and looked back, feeling the older warrior also pause and turn.

“Grandpa!” Bolvar squealed, coming around the bend in the hallway and latching onto Varian’s leg. Alaric soon occupied the other and Varian chuckled. He reached down to gently cup their heads. His hands dwarfed them completely.

“How’re my boys?” Varian asked.

“We’re good!” Bolvar replied immediately, and enthusiastically. “Up?”

“I think Grandpa wants to take a bath first,” Luciana interjected, eyeing Varian knowingly. He couldn’t refuse the twins despite any pain he would feel from picking them both up, so she deflected it for him. “Why don’t you go find Uncle Kri? I’m sure he’ll be happy to play horsie with you until Grandpa has rested a bit from his long journey home. Uncle Kri even has the hooves for it!”

“Let’s go!” Alaric said, tugging at Bolvar’s arm. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“Okay, okay!” Bolvar replied, reluctantly releasing Varian’s leg.

“You can visit with him after,” Anduin said, and at that Bolvar let Alaric pull him away. Anduin smiled softly. “They’re growing so fast. Almost too fast.”

“It’ll slow down soon,” Luciana said. “The first few years they always go fast.”

“Especially with Wrynn blood,” Varian added. “And with you for a mother, I’m sure they’re going to be as big as me.”

“Hopefully not,” Anduin grimaced. “Your size doesn’t do you any favours. Not anymore.”

Varian groaned and turned to keep walking.

“I’ll have someone draw you a bath,” Anduin said with a sympathetic smile. He patted his father’s arm as he went by.

“I’ll go with him,” Luciana sighed.

Varian’s size did indeed do more harm than good, and Luciana saw it now more clearly than ever as Varian stiffly undressed. She had to step in and help him pull his shirt off when his shoulders refused to cooperate. “Where’s your Professor?” Luciana asked.

“Audrey is...” He snarled suddenly when his left shoulder seized. Luciana reached up and kneaded at it, digging her fingers into the too-tight, quivering muscles. It eased, slowly, and Varian released the breath he’d been holding when it relaxed completely. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Audrey is currently on her way in from Ironforge,” Varian replied.

“And is she helping you?”

“Somewhat,” he said. “I wish it could do more. It would be so much easier, on me and on her.”

“But there’s only so much that can be done,” Luciana finished.

“I still think you should tell him.”

“I don’t.” Her words were sharp, and Varian let it go for the moment. He’d always bring it up, and she’d always refuse it. “Is your pain getting better, at least?”

“A bit at a time. Each flare-up is easier than the last. Doesn’t make them pleasant.” He stepped into the bath slowly, bracing his hands on the bars Luciana had ordered to be installed while he was away. She knew he’d never have it done on his own, not when he could hardly even acknowledge his chronic pain, but she knew it was a help to him. He hissed when the steaming hot water touched his knees, snarled a horrid curse in Darnassian when it hit his back, and gritted his teeth in a silent howl when his shoulder sank into the bath.

Luciana stood guard while he did his best to relax. She was alert so that he didn’t have to be. After being in a warzone, she knew it was necessary. And even if it hadn’t been she would have done it for a fellow warrior, and for her father.

“So,” Varian said after a while. The hot water, infused with all manner of medicinal herbs and alchemical potions, had finally started to help him. “I know you’ve been married for what, seven years? Almost eight?”

“Nearly eight, yeah,” Luciana replied, looking over at him. He had a new scar on his right bicep, she noted. Two, actually - claw marks. And a puncture wound scar next to his clavicle that hadn’t been there last she’d seen him. “Why?”

“Usually five years in, you take a second honeymoon,” he said. “But you two didn’t. Circumstances didn’t allow, I guess. Still, you should take it soon.”

“Right after it’s announced that we’ll be soon ascending to the throne?” she asked dryly. “No, I don’t think so. We had a bit of time to ourselves in Darkshire. If Anduin wants one, we’ll take. Otherwise there’s not really a reason to take so much time away from the court. Especially not after a war’s ended. You know how fragile the economy is at times like this.”

“True enough. You should speak to him about it, then. Might be good to take a little time, really alone. Not a full two weeks. Maybe one week, or even just four or five days. But, you know, solitude and time alone. Like the first honeymoon.”

“Maybe. And what about you and Audrey?” Luciana countered. “Are you going to get married?”

“Not while I’m King,” Varian snorted. “After. When there’s peace enough for her to have me all to herself.”

“Are you going to live that long?” Luciana asked.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Varian sighed heavily, and looked away from her, towards the windows. They faced the mountains, had nothing beneath it that could be used as a perch, and were each narrow enough to severely limit any attempts at entering through them. “Find a way,” he said. “You made an oath to him, Luciana, to always come back. Well, you haven’t come back from that darkness yet.”

“There is no way out of that,” she said. “And you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It should be. He’s yours to keep, until the Light takes you,” Varian reminded her.

“The Light will take me soon.”

“No, your fury will.”

“And I’ll go to the Light, like everyone before me. Like my forefathers, my dead squad mates, my brother.”

“Does that bother you still?” Varian asked, returning his gaze to her. His gaze was dark, intent, and old. Too old. “His death? The way he died? You haven’t told anyone else,” he supplied.

“No.”

“Maybe it’s time.”

“Maybe it’s time you stop trying to carry everyone else’s burdens and worry about your own failing back.”

“A parent never stops worrying about their child, Luciana. And I’m very worried about you.”

“Have you told Anduin the full extent of your pain?”

“I have.”

Luciana’s teeth snapped when she clenched her jaw.

“I wrote him,” Varian told her, “not long ago.”

“The letter with the reports on the Citadel,” she supplied.

“Yes. I detailed everything.”

“The depression?”

“Everything,” Varian told her. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to,” he said firmly. “For yourself, and for him. Luciana,” he pleaded, sitting up. Water sloughed off him at the sudden movement and while he winced and clenched his jaw at the pain, he did it anyway. “Lucy, you have to tell him. I told Bolvar, long ago. I trusted him with that. I told Audrey most of it, and while you’re right in saying there’s no way to fix it, it’s helped. Immensely. She knows what to look for now, she’s not left in the dark about why I act the way I do sometimes. Lucy, please. For your own sake, for his sake, and for my peace of mind, talk to him.”

“I can’t,” she repeated. “I can’t put that on him. He can’t carry that.”

“You can,” Varian said. “And he can carry it. He’s a healer, Luciana. Let him heal you.”

She was silent, and Varian sighed and let it drop. “Is it really helping you?” she asked in a small voice.

“A bit, yes. A bit more each time I see her. Which will hopefully be much more often, now. I heard you assigned her Galion as a personal guard. Thank you for that.”

“I thought it best she be protected while you’re away,” Luciana said.

“Thank you all the same.”

“Sure.”

They didn’t speak further, though when the water started to cool beyond a point that would be helpful, Varian let her help him clamber out of the wide porcelain tub. He gave her a knowing look that bit at her and she swallowed down whatever words she would have spit at him out of spite and grievance.

“Go and see your mate,” Varian said softly when he was dressed in simple, comfortable cottons. He sat heavily in his favourite armchair, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll be fine now.”

“When will Audrey be here?”

“Soon. Before the evening.”

“She can join us for dinner.”

“She might like that. Might make her nervous.”

“You can eat with her, then,” Luciana told him. “We’ll eat with the twins. Maybe Wrathion, if I don’t hear anything bad about him.”

“It does good to reward good behaviour.”

“I’ll have him trained by year’s end,” Luciana joked with a smile that fell flat the moment the door shut behind her.


	23. Freya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I had a breast reduction surgery a few days ago and while I'm recovering I will probably post more.

It was dark by the time their ship reached Azuremyst’s docks. The island was small, not often frequented. The docks were kept in good repair, but they were antiquated, built in a time when the Imperial Marine Corps had been simply the Stormwind Navy.

Still, the wood and iron was enchanted. It held up well to the briny seas, and to the thousands of hooves and booted feet that traveled over it every year. Only a handful of planks groaned under Luciana’s armoured weight. They gave Anduin a chance to again make a quip about levitating her hefty weight down the path.

“Let’s just get out of the open,” she grumbled, her watchful eyes on the stable hands that were bringing Thunderer out of the hold. Anduin’s horse, a fine grey Charger he’d named Lanselm, was brought up behind Luciana’s mount. The two horses got along alright, considering Thunderer’s temper and tendency to bite.

Luciana took his reins when they were presented and stroked the top of his head while Anduin mounted his own horse. When he was steady in the saddle, Luciana hauled herself onto Thunderer’s strong back. They waited only a few moments for the Royal Guards to form up, a line behind and a line ahead, and then they were off.

The Exodar loomed in the distance, past the mist to which the island’s curious vegetation lent a blue tinge. It was silent this late at night, save for the rustle of trees and the occasional murmur of paws padding on the soft grass. Luciana could see two sabers prowling the tree line, their eyes flashing in the moonlight.

“Do you think Freya will remember us?” Anduin murmured. Luciana’s gaze flicked to him, and he started lightly.

“What?” she asked.

“Your eyes are yellow,” he said with a smile. “Sorry, it just startled me.”

“I could tell. I don’t know, Anduin. She’ll probably remember me from my visits, or at least my voice or my smell. A baby never really forgets their mother. She wasn’t quite two last time you visited her directly. But she might know your voice well enough from the talk stones to identify you.”

“I hope so,” he said quietly. He didn’t speak again until they reached the Exodar.

The voyage had been long, even though they’d taken a portal to Teldrassil and then a boat from there to Azuremyst. The preparations had been the worst part. Varian had planned to make an announcement of their impending succession not even a full week after they were scheduled to return, and that was only because Anduin had spent long hours arguing it with him until he relented. Originally he’d wanted to make it the moment they returned, to keep things moving. But they all knew a week was plenty quick enough.

There was a small contingent of honour guards waiting for them at the gates. Two mounted on decorated elekk moved to the head of the group, and the Stormwind envoy halted before them.

“The Prophet Velen greets you, Prince Anduin and Princess Luciana,” the darkly coloured Vindicator intoned. “We Shields of Velen will bring you to him, and to the one we have kept safe here on your behalf.”

“Thank you, Shields of Velen,” Anduin replied, throwing his smooth voice expertly. “We are eager to see our young one again, and again we send our thanks to the Prophet and his people.”

The Vindicator nodded solemnly and her elekk turned at some unseen command. The groups merged as the Stormwind envoy approached the Exodar’s main entrance. They’d further progressed into the more superficial, aesthetic repairs since Luciana had last seen the ship. She imagined that one day they might simply fly up into the sky and disappear. But she knew it wouldn’t be such an easy matter. The draenei were called friends by many denizens of Azeroth, and she knew they were not ones to think lightly of something so precious.

They were first brought to Velen’s perch, high on a crystal dais in the Vault of Lights. It was a brilliant and wondrous sight, but Luciana wasn’t concerned with it. She was more eager to see her daughter, safe and healthy. Still, they owed great thanks to Velen for making that possible, and she dismounted and followed along in step beside Anduin when they reached their first destination.  
“Prophet Velen,” Anduin greeted first, bowing shallowly at the waist for a moment.

“Prophet,” Luciana echoed, doing the same.

“Ah, Prince Anduin, Princess Luciana,” Velen greeted, a warm smile growing on his face. In the light of the Vault, Luciana could clearly see what looked like hairline cracks in his alabaster skin. “It is good to see you again, my student.”

“And you, _ashkalo_ ,” Anduin said, his smile growing. Teacher, he had called Velen.

“I imagine you are eager to see your daughter?” Velen said, looking at Luciana with a knowing gaze. She nodded, knowing that despite her intimidating dark armour, despite the dragon-like helm, he saw right through her, through her eyes, into her heart. She found she didn’t mind it. “Then, I shall not be the one to keep you. Come, I will guide you to her.”

He indicated that they take the crystalline stairs back down to the ground, and Luciana was the first to go. With a wave she told the Royal Guards not to follow, and she could tell that Velen’s Shields had received the same order when they backed away to let them pass.

Velen took his time walking, and Luciana fell silent while Anduin spoke. He was eager to speak to his _ashkalo_ again, not only his teacher but his guide and his friend, and Luciana let them catch up.

She picked up Enaeon’s booming voice long before they actually reached the block where his narrow apartment lay tucked in between numerous other homes. A smile grew unbidden on her face, and while Velen seemed content to keep his easy pace she wanted to speed up. It’d been years since she’d seen Enaeon, really seen him, and while Lokaal was a great healer, he wasn’t Enaeon.

She was saved from making her excuses for running ahead when Enaeon slammed open his front door and opened his arms wide. “Enaeon!” Luciana crowed, dashing ahead to tackle him around the waist. True to her memory of his solid form he remained standing, only stumbling back a few steps.

“My friend!” he laughed, hugging her tightly - but with caution to the spikes on her wolf-head pauldrons and the outside of her vambraces. “Luciana, my friend! How good it is to see you again!”

“ _Khronokai khrystor_ , Enaeon,” Luciana heard Velen say.

“Hello,” Anduin’s voice echoed.

“Prophet, it is an honour. And Prince Anduin, it is good to see you again, as well!” Enaeon smiled and laughed and finally released Luciana, who didn’t quite feel like releasing him just yet and instead moved to stand next to him, under his arm which wrapped around her upper back, just beneath the fur of her mantle. He was one of the few people she knew who could make her feel short. “You want to see Freya, I assume?” Enaeon said, looking down at Luciana.

“Of course. Where is she?”

“Inside, in her play room. You might want to take off the shoulders and the gauntlets, first,” he teased, batting at one of the great spikes on her shoulder guards.

“Right. Excuse me, then. Prophet, thank you for everything,” Luciana said, bowing her head.

“It is an honour to assist you and Anduin,” he replied with a smile, copying her motion. It took her off-guard for a moment - as Princess, she was technically a rank under him and he didn’t need to show the same amount of respect. Obviously he didn’t see it that way. “I understand you are eager to see your child. I will not keep you from that.”

“I’ll be up soon, as well,” Anduin told her, and with that, she slipped away into the apartment.

She found a room with a locking door that she could use to stow away her armour, away from the curious, probing hands of a child. When she was bare save for her under-armour, she stilled. Her ears were now sensitive enough to hear through solid stone and she listened, took stock of everything she heard.

“Second floor,” she murmured to herself, and locked the door behind her. Enaeon would have the key. If he didn’t, she could kick it down. Either way she’d get her armour back safe.

Luciana came to a stop in the hallway outside the play room. The door was open, a child’s wide playpen locking Freya in the safe space set aside for her. She was giggling, Luciana could hear wooden blocks clacking, and a cat meowed plaintively before its paws thudded almost imperceptibly on a wooden surface. A table, most likely.

Luciana moved slowly into the doorway, watching as Freya came into sight. She was two and a half years old, and it showed. She was longer, less top-heavy, and Luciana could see a bit of Anduin’s features more strongly in her.

The cat noticed Luciana first, prowled up to the edge of the desk and gave her a curious chirp. Freya looked over, nearly flipping in the process, smiling. When she spotted Luciana, her smile fell into a slack expression as she tried to take in everything at once. Luciana knew it would be a lot for a child.

“Hello, Freya,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you remember me?”

Freya didn’t respond immediately. Luciana could hear Enaeon’s great hooves clonking around downstairs. The front door shut and she heard Anduin’s voice murmur.

“I’m your mama,” Luciana said, keeping her voice low and soft. “I visited you all the time when you were a little baby.”

“Uncle En say Mama big,” Freya said.

“I’m pretty big,” Luciana confirmed with a small smile. Freya seemed unsure, still, and Luciana asked, “Do you want me to get Uncle En?”

“Yah.”

“Okay. I’ll go get him right now.” She didn’t let her disappointment show. Freya would get to know her much better in the weeks to come.

Luciana stood at the top of the stairs and called down for Enaeon. He appeared at their base a moment later, his tail twitching like a cat’s in his excitement. “Yes, what is it?” he asked.

“Freya wants you.”

“Alright!” he said brightly, hurrying up the stairs. Anduin followed along behind at a much slower pace.

“Did she remember you?”

“I don’t think so,” Luciana murmured, watching Enaeon disappear into the playroom. “She said that Uncle En said Mama is big. I’m not sure if that means she doesn’t remember me, or what.”

“It’s still soon,” Anduin soothed, but Luciana could tell he was nervous. She wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing him to her side to offer comfort. He smiled at her tightly. “And anyway, she’ll have plenty of time to get to know us. Years and years. And her brothers, too. And Father!” His smile loosened a bit, more happy now that he was thinking of cheerier things. “Oh, she’d love Father.”

“And I think he’d adore her, too.”

“Come on,” Anduin encouraged, nodding to the open doorway. “Let’s go see her.”

Freya was in Enaeon’s lap when they entered the room, perched on his knee with her hands up against one of his. She was playing with a couple of his fingers, bending them this way and that experimentally. “Hello again,” Luciana greeted softly, letting her arm slide away from Anduin so she could kneel, and then sit on the ground next to Freya.

“Freya, this is your mother, Luciana,” Enaeon introduced. “You remember her voice. The deep voice,” he supplied.

Freya stared at Luciana. “You got a bad face,” she said suddenly. Taken aback, Luciana could only blink owlishly at her.

“She means your scars,” Enaeon said with a chuckle. “Freya, say booboo face, not bad face.

“Booboo face.”

“Good! Bad face is not a nice thing to say.”

“You got a booboo,” Freya said, poking at her own chin.

“Yes, I do. It’s an old booboo.”

“Do it hurt?”

“No, not anymore,” Luciana assured her. With a bit of encouragement, Enaeon got Freya to crawl off his knee and into Luciana’s lap. Freya wriggled around and made herself comfortable and Luciana’s chest tightened to an unbearable degree. “Hello, lovely,” Luciana crooned, gently cradling Freya to her chest. “Hello, little one. Freya.”

Freya pressed her ear to Luciana’s chest and stared out into space, sticking her hand against her mouth. “Talk,” Enaeon murmured.

“My name is Luciana. I’m your mother - your mama. You have two older brothers, who were born at the same time. That means they’re twins. Alaric is older than Bolvar by only a little bit,” she said slowly, letting her voice rumble in her chest like she’d done when the twins were still babies. Like she’d done with Frederic, bringing her voice from deep within her chest to soothe him with the vibrations. “I love you so much,” Luciana choked, cradling Freya to her and resting her chin delicately on top of her daughter’s head. “I’ve missed you so much, Freya. I’m so happy to see you again. You’re looking so good now, so big and strong.”

Freya snuggled into her chest and she clenched her jaw until it creaked, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. Enaeon’s gaze was heavy on her and she wet her lips, not meeting his eyes.

“Papa is here too,” Luciana continued. “Your Papa. Your father. Anduin?” she said, and Anduin’s hand came to rest on the back of her head a moment later. “Do you remember your Papa?”

“Yah,” Freya said, wriggling around a bit more and sticking her head out over Luciana’s arm. She got an arm out, laid it over Luciana’s shoulder and pulled herself up a bit. “Yah, Papa.”

“Hello, little one,” Anduin greeted her softly, kneeling next to Luciana. “I’m your Papa.”

“Papa got a bright voice,” Freya said.

“What does that mean?” Luciana murmured, looking at Enaeon. She supported Freya’s weight while the child tried to crawl over her to reach Anduin. She stopped trying to escape when he reached out and let her take his hand.

“I’m not sure,” Enaeon said, his brow furrowing heavily under his great forehead crest. “She’s said the same thing about me, and about the Prophet, as well as her favourite caretaker.”

“Is her favourite caretaker a Light-wielder?” Luciana asked.

“Yes, of course. They all are.”

Her stomach sank. “Anduin,” Luciana said, trying to look at him over Freya’s head. The child had grabbed hold of his hand and wasn’t letting go, so he’d settled into an easier sitting position, pressed against Luciana’s back, to save his knees.

“Yes, love?” he asked absently, his attention mostly taken up by the little girl in Luciana’s arms.

“Is it possible she’s already manifesting Light?”

He looked up from Freya’s curious prodding hands, face falling out of its slightly dazed happiness. “She’s too young,” he said, but he was unsure.

“Draenei often manifest by their second year,” Enaeon supplied. “But, we are blessed by the Naaru. I’m not sure a human would...” he trailed off.

“Would Velen be able to tell?” Luciana asked.

“Why?” Anduin asked.

“She said you have a light voice,” Luciana said. “Mages will often call their individual signatures their voice. Even Damran describes their souls as their voices. What if she’s sensing your soul? Or your Light core?”

The room was silent for a moment, save for Freya’s humming and mumbling. Luciana was the first to stand, easily moving Freya to a comfortable position in her arms.

“I will send word to the Prophet,” Enaeon said.

“No, you stay with me. Anduin, go to him,” Luciana said.

“As you wish,” Enaeon acquiesced easily, but Anduin wanted more than an order. Luciana glanced at him and saw as much in his face.

“She knows Enaeon and I don’t think she’d be comfortable without him here,” she said softly, lowering her head slightly. She knew better than to give Anduin orders but it was a hard habit to break. “And I know you and Velen are close. You’re more patient than I am, too. He moves too slowly for me.”

“Everyone moves too slowly for you,” Anduin teased, reaching up to cup her cheek. He gave her a quick, sweet kiss, and she knew he’d forgiven her like he always had. Always would. “I won’t be long. Freya?” he said, ducking his head slightly for her to be able to see him better. “Papa will be back soon, okay?”

“Yah.”

Anduin reached up to gently run a finger over her cheek and she stared at him. He tickled at the side of her neck and she giggled and tried to press her cheek against her shoulder to make it stop. Anduin smiled widely and straightened, staring at her for a moment. “I love you,” he said softly. “Papa loves you.”

“Papa gotta bright voice,” Freya said. “And mama got a big voice.” She drew out the word big for several seconds, and Anduin chuckled.

“Mama is big,” he confirmed.

Luciana carted Freya around the house as she followed Enaeon. He had some daily chores to do while they awaited Anduin's return, mostly cleaning and tidying for Velen’s visit. Though the Prophet had guided Anduin and Luciana to Enaeon’s home, he hadn’t entered. Now, though, it was doubtful that he wouldn’t. Enaeon clearly wanted the place to be spotless.

“You’re not going to get that stain out,” Luciana told him when she saw him eyeing something that looked like a raspberry stain on the cushion of a chair.

“I can try,” he said.

“It’d be a waste of time,” she pointed out.

Enaeon quickly moved to another task, the tip of his tail twitching in a clear sign of his nerves.


	24. Always to Keep

Freya was firmly snuggled into Luciana’s solid chest, her face against her mother’s neck, by the time Anduin returned with Velen in tow. When the two priests entered the house and the door shut behind them, Freya looked up.

“You gotta bright voice,” she said to Velen, in a slow voice full of awe.

“I have had many years to develop it,” he told her with a smile. “Princess, Anduin tells me you believe Freya may be exhibiting signs of the Light?”

“The way she describes your voices is the way a mage would describe their signature,” she explained shortly. “Enaeon says draenei tend to manifest the Light by the time they’re two. Freya’s been exposed to the Naaru in the heart of your ship for almost that long, and her father is powerful in the Light. Not to mention the situation of her birth.”

“I see. Then, might I take her for a moment?” Velen asked. Luciana didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t want to let go of her daughter. But, she knew Velen would be the last one to harm a child, and Anduin trusted him. When Velen moved to take Freya with careful, steady hands, Luciana let him. Freya seemed almost eager to go to him and even reached out to grab at him. “Here we are,” he murmured, his voice like grumbling stone. “Hello, little one,” he said to Freya.

“Hi,” she responded. Bolvar and Alaric had never stopped talking when they’d learned how to use their words. Freya, Luciana thought, might have been a bit overwhelmed by all the new people.

“I’m going to look into your mind for a moment,” Velen said. “It will not hurt at all. Anduin, you remember how to ground another?”

“Of course.” With a smile that seemed almost fond, he reached out to place his hand against the back of Velen’s shoulder. Velen gave a matching smile and closed his eyes, their ambient glow still obvious as they penetrated the lids. He pressed the tips of his first, second, and third digits to Freya’s forehead.

A gentle hum echoed in Luciana’s ribcage. She inhaled, nostrils flared, to try and scent it instinctively. But it had no scent, no physical presence. It didn’t feel at all like Anduin’s Light, but it had the same effect - it calmed her, eased the ever-present tension that penetrated all the way to her deep tissue. This was something that could easily put her to sleep. 

She knew it should unsettle her that something she couldn’t touch could affect her so easily. But, she reasoned, it obviously came from Velen, and perhaps from Anduin. It wouldn’t harm her. It didn’t make it easier to keep her snarl from showing on her face.

The hum subsided slowly but it left a hollow, muted ringing in her ears. “I think,” Velen said slowly, taking his hand back. “I think, Princess, that your suspicious are correct. Freya is indeed already developing her own Light, deep in her heart. It is new, and very frail, and nurturing it will require dedicated and delicate care. But I believe, also, that it will one day be stronger and firmer than any other.”

“What do you mean, delicate care?” Luciana asked, taking Freya back from the ageless draenei. “Would she need to stay in the Cathedral?”

“I think it best for her to remain near O’ros until her Light is stable enough to stand on its own,” Velen replied.

It was hard, but Luciana refrained from snapping at him. He would see reason, she knew. She just had to explain it. “It would be best for her to be with her family, where she can develop strong bonds that will see her through hardship,” Luciana said. “If her Light requires a delicate touch, we will entrust her to the priests of the Cathedral. They are from many walks of life and some are powerful enough to stand against a threat as great as Deathwing, but gentle enough to heal even the most broken heart. They can teach her everything she needs to know. Enaeon, you would be more than welcome to stay on as her guardian.”

“It would be my honour,” Enaeon said after a moment, bowing his head to Luciana. “She is a delight.”

“Princess, I am aware that you want very badly to see your daughter safe in your halls,” Velen said, eyeing Luciana in a way that made her hackles raise. She tamped it down. Snapping at Velen wouldn’t do anything, not for her, and not to him. “I do not speak now as the leader of the draenei, I speak as a Prophet of the Light, and as a priest of its glorious presence. For her sake, and for the health of her Light, I strongly suggest you let her remain here, in the Exodar, where O’ros may reach out easily and strengthen her until she is old enough to stand on her own. Just as you would steady a child as they learn to walk, and to run, a newly developed Light must be steadied and strengthened so that when it wavers, it is not in danger of being completely extinguished.”

Luciana’s jaw clenched. “Anduin and I will discuss it further,” she said simply.

“I understand. I am always available to you both for council, whatever your decision,” he said. “Freya’s Light promises of a bright and steady future. I would like nothing more than to see it come to fruition.”

“Thank you for your time, and advice, Prophet,” Anduin said before Luciana could respond. “We’ll send word to you soon about our decision.”

“Alright.” Velen looked down at Anduin, and smiled. “You have grown into a strong and caring man, Anduin. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, _ashkalo_ ,” Anduin said warmly, barely keeping his smile from splitting his face as a broad grin. “It’s good to see you again.”

Velen gave his shoulder a gentle pat before he left. Enaeon, ever observant, held out his hands to take Freya. “You’re going to go with your Uncle En for now, okay?” Luciana said, letting the draenei take the child.

“Mama gonna go again?” Freya asked, twisting in Enaeon’s grip to watch her.

“No, not for now,” Luciana promised, reaching out to gently cup Freya’s tiny face. “Mama and Papa are just gonna go upstairs for a bit. You go with Uncle En and we’ll see you again soon, okay?”

“Yah.”

“Okay.” Luciana placed a kiss on Freya’s forehead and when she stepped back, Anduin moved in to do the same.

“I love you,” he said softly. “Very, very much. I love you.”

They found a room upstairs that looked to be some kind of hobby room. It had a wide table covered in various instruments and shards of crystal. “Is Enaeon a jewelcrafter?” Anduin asked, reaching out to gently touch one of the purple shards. It glowed faintly at his touch.

“Yes. He must be taking the time away from Amadeus to do a bit of research,” Luciana said. She leaned her hip against the solid table, made of the typical unnameable materials the draenei seemed to favour. Shining metals and crystals that hummed when you touched them. She imagined Freya would need to adjust to silent, boring wooden furniture.

Anduin sighed, crossed his arms and turned to face Luciana. “We need to talk about a few things,” he said quietly. “Freya, and you.”

“Me?” she asked, copying him and crossing her arms over her wide chest. “What about?”

“You’re not... You’ve been acting odd, lately. You’ve been unwilling to talk about any other option than having Freya in Stormwind,” Anduin started. “You’ve been handing out orders and changing things. Like you’re planning for something.”

“I can’t plan for the future? It involves my children,” she reasoned.

“It’s more than that,” he said, frustration colouring his voice. He turned away for a moment as he spoke. “It’s a plan you don’t seem to want me to see. But, Lucy, we’re partners. We’re supposed to share these things so we can support each other.” He turned back to her, brow furrowing. “What exactly are you planning for that you don’t want me to know about?”

“There’s nothing,” she said firmly. “I’m just trying to prepare a good future for my children. For my family,” she stressed. “I want them to be safe so they can grow up healthy and whole. I want them to have good memories with me, with you,” she added.

“They’ll have decades of those,” Anduin said. “Lucy,” he sighed, letting his arms drop. “Please. Don’t keep this... whatever it is from me. Remember what you said, when you came back from your year in Kalimdor? About your deal with Goldrinn, that he’d help you move past your fear? Help you stop holding back from me? Well, you’re still holding back,” he told her. “And I’m waiting for you realize that there’s no reason to, but apparently you’re not getting it. Is this about your blood?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your warrior’s blood, that never lets you rest?” he asked. “Father told me about his problems. He told me what it’s like. Are you suffering like that?” he demanded, taking a step forward. “You are. You still feel alone.” His temple jumped, and he frowned harshly, trying to keep his voice even. It still wavered slightly as he spoke. “And you won’t let me help you. Lucy, I promised to help you. When we were married, I swore to you to guide you, and keep you, and now you’re not letting me. Why?” he asked, almost breathless. Luciana heard him swallow thickly, saw his Adam’s apple jump. “Do you know what that feels like? To be blocked off, rejected, by your own partner?”

“Don’t,” she said suddenly. “Don’t say that. That’s not what this is.”

“Then tell me!” he snapped, taking another step forward, and then another, until he was nearly touching her. “Lucy, just talk to me,” he said, voice cracking in the middle of his words. “Please. Don’t lock yourself away from me. I want to help you, and I will, but you have to let me. You don’t have to be afraid of me, Lucy.”

“I’m not. It’s not,” she said. “It’s not like that at all, Anduin. I’m just... just trying to plan.”

“Plan for what? You’re making it sound like you’re going to die soon!” His face froze in a blank expression that frightened Luciana more than his sorrow. “You’re going to die soon.”

“Anduin, no...”

“You’re going to die and you were going to keep it from me until it was time to bury you,” he said flatly, stepping away from her. “You were going to leave me wondering what I could have done, what I should have done differently. You’re going to die, and leave your children with one parent and a grandparent both suffering and alone. And for what?” he asked quietly, deceptively calm. “So you could hide?”

“It’s not that,” she tried again.

“So you could be selfish, get a few happy years?” he demanded. “And then, when you’re gone, you don’t have to see the misery you left behind?” He was pushing her, trying to get her to snap, to let go and let him see it, and she did.

“I didn’t want to put it on you!” she snapped roughly, a quick snarl, and his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. “Anduin, this is what happens to warriors. This is what happens to berserkers. We go and go and go, and then there’s no rope left and we fall, and we never stop falling. And we pray for death, because that’s the only way we’ll ever find rest. We scare everyone around us until one day, we’re scared of ourselves. And then we pray for death, because it’s the only way we’ll ever find peace. We pray that one day we’ll be with the Light, without a physical body, because otherwise we’re alone. However many friends we have, however many people we’re close to, we’re alone, because we’re rage and power and endless fury coiled up into a tiny little ball that’s always a short fuse away from exploding. Violently, and dangerously,” she said. “We’re a danger to everyone around us. It’s exhausting, Anduin, and the only way out is death.”

“How can you know that?” he asked. His voice was quiet. It tore an ever-growing hole in Luciana’s chest.

“Because we’ve tried,” she said softly. “Warriors have tried for so long to find another way. But there is none. There is only fighting, and then death. Once your fury wakes up, it’s the end. All you have is borrowed time.”

“Father’s still alive,” he tried.

“Your father is not a berserker,” she said, nearly whispering. “I am. I’m sorry, Anduin. I’m sorry you married a berserker. I’m sorry you’re going to be alone again. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you longer.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he muttered. “There has to be a way. There is a way. We just have to find it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, staring at his chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She knew he was crying. She couldn’t look up.

“Don’t,” Anduin said. “Don’t apologize for marrying me, Lucy. Or do you regret it?”

Her throat tightened at the brokenness of his voice and she screwed her eyes shut for a moment, turning her head away from him. “Of course not,” she said finally, her voice tight. “Of course not. How could I regret marrying you? I love you.”

“But you don’t trust me.”

“Of course I do. Anduin, I couldn’t put this on you. I couldn’t let you blame yourself. How could you do anything, when so many others have tried and failed? People with the fury, people who know it, who couldn’t find a way around it. How could I put this on you?”

“I promised to always walk by your side,” he said softly. She felt his fingers on her chin, gently trying to tilt her head up. “Lucy, please look at me. Love, look at me.”

It took her a moment to wrangle her emotions back under control. She opened her eyes, worked her jaw and looked up at him, met his gaze. Waited.

“I promised to walk with you and love you until the Light took you. I promised to guide you, and keep you, until you were no longer mine to keep. Are you still mine?”

“Of course,” she said softly.

“Then let me keep you,” he said, reaching out to pull her gently to him. “I can’t blame you for keeping this from me, however much I want to,” he told her. “Because I can see how much it hurts you.”

Her throat tried to close up and she tucked her head against his chest, trying to keep herself from sobbing. He wasn’t using his Light - he didn’t need to this time. Just his voice, his scent, his soft skin, was making her want to curl up and cry.

“Luciana Amadeus Wrynn, you are my wife, my partner, and my guardian, and I love you more than anything in this world,” Anduin murmured, pressing his cheek against her hair. “And I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to keep you with me, as long as you are mine to keep. And when you’re no longer mine to keep, I expect you to tell me. Are you still mine?” he asked.

“Yes. Always.”

He gently carded his fingers through her short hair, making her scalp prickle. “Then you need to always be with me. How else will I know that you’re always mine?” he said softly, and she could hear his smile.

“I’m sorry,” she choked.

“Don’t be. Don’t apologize for being afraid. Apologize for lying to me, for trying to leave me, or whatever you want. But you don’t need to apologize for those, either. I already forgave you. Just... From now on, please, Lucy. Promise me that you won’t keep things from me again. Not big things, not things like this. Promise that you’ll let me share your burdens, like I swore I would when I married you. I knew what I was getting into, Lucy. And I knew that I loved you, and would always love you. Promise me that you’ll let me stand by you as your equal, and I’ll promise that I’ll always be with you, through any fury, any berserking, any rage or violence or danger.”

“I promise,” she sobbed, her hold on him tightening. She felt like she was drowning, she couldn’t get a breath in her lungs without it hurting, and she hated it. Hated it with a burning fury, but Anduin was holding her steady.

“I promise,” he echoed softly.

He leaned back, gave a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she sobbed openly and pressed her face into his chest until she couldn’t breathe past the cloth of his coat. She trembled violently, wracked with heaving sobs she couldn’t get out past his chest, and he held her tightly until it eased. He didn’t speak, didn’t gently hush her, and when she managed to stop her crying she felt worse than a drowned rat.

Then, after all that, Anduin’s Light gently touched her skin, seeped in past her muscles until it could rest quietly, contently in her bones. It soothed her aching throat, eased her exhaustion and her trembling. Anduin gently cared his hand through her hair, and murmured, “I love you. And I’ll always be here for you. Let me in, Lucy. I’m not afraid of whatever darkness you have in you. I’ll light the way for you to escape it.”

Her throat tightened again and she swallowed thickly, breathing deeply to keep herself from sobbing again. To keep herself from screaming until her throat bled. “I’m sorry,” she muttered thickly.

“I forgave you. For hiding it, for lying to me about it, for scaring me... for everything. I love you.”

She didn’t respond and he fell silent, rubbing her back soothingly with a hand full of cool, soft Light. He was waiting for her to move, to decide how to act. But she wanted to think clearly on everything that had been happening, and she couldn’t while she was still only a few breaths away from breaking down completely.


	25. Cooking With Enaeon

Enaeon’s apartment had two bedrooms, one made for a smaller human, one made for a massive draenei. Luciana borrowed Enaeon’s bed for a short time. She muttered to him that she needed to lay down for a bit and he didn’t question her, only gave her a look of concern and her shoulder a firm squeeze.

She didn’t sleep, of course. She couldn’t sleep most nights, anyway, but today she was much too preoccupied to even try. Still, she lay down on the bed with the lights off, the window shutters closed, and tried to relax at least most of her major muscles.

Anduin had made it clear throughout their many discussions on the matter that he wanted Freya to remain in the Exodar, despite his own wishes to have her home with them. Velen had also suggested the child remain within reach of the Naaru O’ros, whose duty it apparently was to support young draenei as their Light developed. Even those who were not priests or paladins had a blessing on them from birth, and being close to the Naaru who gave them that blessing was healthier for them in some way. 

Luciana honestly thought it was ridiculous - humans and dwarves, she knew, didn’t have a Naaru in their basement, but they developed just fine. But, Anduin was a priest. He would know better than her.

Enaeon hadn’t voiced it, but Luciana knew him well enough. He, too, thought Velen’s suggestion was the right way. And Luciana also knew that whatever was decided, Enaeon would follow Freya wherever she went. He was her guardian now, probably for the rest of her life. He’d taken to the little child like he would have his own niece. Whether it was because she was Luciana’s child, or because Enaeon had been the one to bring Freya’s soul into the world through the Light, Luciana didn’t know. She tried not to dwell on it too long.

Velen could be considered an expert, a master of the Light, and Anduin was a powerful priest and her husband. They’d both strongly suggested she let Freya remain in the Exodar while her burgeoning Light developed. But Luciana didn’t have much time left. Whatever Anduin said, she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. Her body was tiring, it was used up and old, and she knew that most warriors didn’t see their fortieth year. Less than half saw their thirty-fifth, and those were the ones who weren’t berserkers. Those rarely lasted beyond their mid-twenties, dying in bloody battle either to the enemy or to their own friends. 

Luciana only hoped her own family wouldn’t have to kill her when she lost every last ounce of sense in her head, swallowed by the monster in her gut.

She didn’t know what to do. Luciana was unsure, and it wasn’t a comfortable place for her. She was so rarely unsure that she didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know if she should keep trying to figure it out or put down the puzzle and let someone else have a look at it. But not many others could figure out the puzzles she had to deal with, or the ones she made. They were usually left far behind by the time she was halfway through.

Anduin could keep up, though. She knew he could, it was one of the reasons she’d been happy to marry him. He was her equal in most things, and the others either belonged to him or to her, depending on how firm a touch those things required. But he’d already made it clear what his thoughts were on Freya’s situation. Was he biased? Was she not seeing things clearly past the gnawing fear? He’d called her selfish. Was she being selfish?

 _You cannot hold Dania back because you couldn’t hold Frederic._ Isn’t that what she’d said to her own father when he’d been ready to keep Dania from living in Dalaran, where she could study her budding magical abilities? And now Luciana was prepared to do the same.

Luciana groaned and rolled onto her back. Her fingers were callused and rough and scraped against her scars when she harshly rubbed at her face.

Children find their own paths, follow their own hopes and interests. And Freya was not destined to be a warrior like Luciana. That much, at least, gave Luciana hope. Her daughter would not suffer the same fate. Hopefully, neither would either of her sons. It would delight her to be able to guide one of her children the way she should have been guided, the way Varian had taken her in, but she would not damn them to their fury the way she’d been damned.

Perhaps Freya would be a priest, like her father. A healer. The thought of it brought a reluctant, lopsided smile to Luciana’s face. Anduin would be over the moon if that was the case. He nearly was, anyway. Or Freya would be a paladin, a stalwart defender or a great wielder of judging Light who would defend her allies. Enaeon would have his hands full, then.

Freya would be safe, and well taken care of. Of that, there was no doubt. If need be, Luciana could spend time in the Exodar. Even as a Queen, or perhaps because she would be Queen, she could put herself in charge of military operations in Kalimdor and base herself in Azuremyst. The draenei would provide excellent support, even more so now that some of their alternate selves were preparing to make the voyage to Azeroth. The Rangari, the Eyes of the Prophet, could bring valuable knowledge and resources and revive the Azerothian order of the same name. And Luciana was close enough to Teldrassil that a short flight to Darnassus could be a regular occurrence.

Even if Freya was in the Exodar, Luciana might still be able to stay with her, give her good memories of her mother before Luciana’s body finally caught up with her.

It was a start. Luciana sighed heavily and let her arms drop to the mattress. It would have to do.

She hauled herself to a sitting position. Her nose went up into the air to scent it. Someone was cooking downstairs, something spicy, and something fresh. Some kind of mint and lime smell, likely a cold pitcher of something to drink. No alcohol. 

Luciana got to her feet, stretched her arms and legs out and rotated her upper body to stretch her back. She could feel her heart speed up to its normal standing pace, racing to its own demise. She shook the thought from her mind, straightened her shirt and brushed a bit of cat hair off her pants.

Enaeon was indeed in the kitchen cooking, and singing some kind of child’s song to Freya who nodded and banged along on the table of her high chair. It was in draenic, a language that Luciana had grown more and more familiar with. They were counting furbolg of all the colours of the rainbow, it seemed.

“Mama!” Freya crowed loudly, interrupting the song.

“Ah, Luciana!” Enaeon greeted. “Are you hungry?”

“Always, my friend.”

“How could I forget?” he said with a sharp-toothed grin.

“Hey, little one,” Luciana said, smiling down at Freya. “How are you doing?”

“Mama! Up!” Freya demanded, throwing her hands up and making little grabbing motions with them.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get up.”

Luciana fumbled with the buckles holding her in place for a moment, learning how to undo them and release Freya from her high chair. Luciana easily lifted her out of her seat and braced the child against her chest, her arm going under her bottom to keep her steady.

“Hello, Freya,” Luciana crooned, rubbing her nose against Freya’s cheek. “Hello, my lovely little one.”

“Hi, Mama,” Freya greeted. “We makin’ chili.”

“I dunno, it looks like Uncle En is doing all of the hard work,” Luciana teased, moving close to the stove, but keeping enough distance that any splatter from the bubbling pot wouldn’t hit Freya’s delicate skin. “Why don’t we help him out?”

“Do what?” Freya asked. “He got all the, all the beans an’ the stuff.”

“Can you count?”

“Yah, up to fir tree.”

“Fourteen?” Luciana asked, giving Enaeon a surreptitious look. He nodded with an odd smile that made Luciana wonder just why Freya called it fir tree instead of fourteen. “That’s pretty high!” she said. “Why don’t we count, then? How many ingredients did he put in?”

“I dunno,” Freya said, and Luciana chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hair. Freya smelled soft and new still, smelled sweetly of honey like her father, of warm milk and early nights.

“Mm, you smell good,” Luciana hummed, nuzzling Freya’s hair with her nose. She inhaled deeply again, smiling widely. “Okay, let’s think. What did he put into the chili?”

“Beans and stuff.”

“What else? Meat?”

“Yah. Og-non.”

“... Onion?” Luciana said slowly. “Say it with me, onion.”

“On-on.”

“Onion.”

“On-on.”

“On-ee-on.”

“Onee.”

“Onion.”

“No.”

Luciana snorted. “Onion,” she tried again.

“Onion.”

“There we go!” Luciana praised. “Good job, my clever little one. Okay, so there’s beans, meat, and rice. How many is that?”

“So many.”

Luciana laughed, Freya bouncing slightly with it. “So many,” she agreed. “I think it’s three. Right? Beans, one. Meat, two. Rice, three. That’s three, right?”

“Yah. Three,” Freya nodded sagely.

“Good! Beans, meat, and rice is three. So with onion, one more. How many is three and one?”

“Fourteen.”

“No, that’s a bit high. Three, and one more. What comes after three?”

“Twelve.”

“No, still too high, little one. Try again. What’s after three?”

“Three, and four.”

“Right! Good,” Luciana praised again, gently kissing Freya’s head. “Beans, meat, rice, and onion. That’s four so far. What else is in there?”

“Veggie-tables.”  
“Vegetables, right. What kinds of vegetables? Carrot, it looks like. So we have carrot, and...?” she trailed off, looking to Enaeon.

“Celery, carrot, and bell peppers.”

“Four,” Freya said.

Luciana smiled. “Well, we don’t count carrot twice.”

“Well, he put two carrot.”

She burst out laughing and purposefully bounced Freya a few times. “I’m going to remember that one for a long time,” Luciana said, and sobered for a moment. _As long as I have left, anyway,_ she nearly said. “Carrot counts as one, since they’re the same thing. So! Carrot, celery, and bell peppers.”

“Peppers is spicy.”

“Not bell peppers. Those are sweet.”

“Pepper is weird.”

“They can be,” Luciana agreed. “Carrot, celery, and bell pepper. How many is that?”

“Seven.”

Luciana blinked. “How about we count the vegetables first?” she said.

“Tree.”

“Three, little one.”

“Three. Three veggie-tables.”

“Vegetables.”

“Vegetables,” Freya repeated dutifully.

“Good! So we have four ingredients, with three vegetables. Can you list them again for me? Say them again?”

“Bean, meaty, rice, an’ og-nion.”

“Onion.”

“Onion.”

“Right. And the rest?”

“Carrot, celery, and sweetie pep.”

Luciana was still smiling as she corrected her daughter. “Bell peppers are sweet, yes, but we usually just call them bell peppers.”

“Sweetie peppers.”

“Sure, alright. Sweetie peppers.” Luciana chuckled. “Beans, meat, rice, onion, carrot, celery, and sweetie peppers. How many is...?”

“Seven,” Freya interrupted her.

“Good! But don’t interrupt me, okay? Let me finish talking so you can listen to me and learn.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Good girl,” Luciana praised. “What else goes in chili?”

“Tomato juice.”

“Well, it’s tomato sauce,” Enaeon said. His tail flicked up and Luciana saw him glancing sideways at Freya. When his tail reached up to tickle at her exposed foot she squealed and wriggled in Luciana’s arms.

“How much tomato sauce?” Luciana asked, regaining her grip on Freya when Enaeon’s mischievous tail left her foot alone.

“Seven.”

“Seven what?” Luciana asked.

“Seven sauce.”

“So much ingredients, and seven sauce,” she grumbled. “Right. What _have_ you been teaching my daughter?” she said, shooting a mock glare at Enaeon. He just laughed it off, stirring a bit of spice into a pan of roasting mushrooms. “We don’t know how much tomato sauce went in there. So why don’t we ask for help? We can ask Enaeon, he would know.”

“Uncle En, how many sauces?” Freya asked.

“There’s about six cups of tomato sauce,” Enaeon replied. “And a bit of olive oil, too.”

“Can you count to six for me, Freya?”

“Yah.”

Luciana waited a moment, and then snorted. “Please count to six for me, Freya,” she said.

“One, two, tree, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, elven, twelve, thirteen, fir tree,” she said dutifully, and Luciana kept back a second snort.

“I asked for six, Freya,” she said.

“Yah.”

“Can you just count to six for me, please?”

“One, two, three, four, five, six.”

“Thank you, little one,” Luciana said, giving Freya a gentle kiss on the cheek. “So how many ingredients do we have now? Beans, rice, meat, onion, carrot, celery, and sweet peppers, and now we have tomato sauce and olive oil too.”

“Nine,” Freya responded.

“That’s right!” Luciana praised. “Why don’t you ask Uncle En what kind of spices he put in the chili?”

Freya looked at Enaeon with wide grey eyes. “How big a spices?” she asked.

“How many? Well, I put fresh garlic, black pepper, salt, earthroot, and peacebloom leaves,” he told her.

“Seven,” Freya said. “I can count to fourteen,” she said, looking back up at Luciana. “And then I don’t got a map.”

Luciana laughed somewhat breathlessly. “Then why don’t you ask me for help and I’ll count the rest of the way?” she said.

“Mama, you wanna help me? I don’t gotta the map for those numbers.”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” she replied. “Why don’t you start us off? Nine, ten...?”

“Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.”

“Fifteen, sixteen,” Luciana finished. “Nine and seven is sixteen.”

“I don’t got it.”

“We start with nine, and then go to ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,” Luciana said. “So nine, with seven more added, is sixteen.”

“I don’t got it still. That’s okay,” Freya said dismissively. “I’m a bitty still so I gotta time learn it.”

“Yes, you do. You have all the time in the world, little one,” Luciana told her. “So for now let’s just enjoy today, okay?”

“Yah.”

Luciana pressed her nose to Freya’s cheek, her forehead, her hair. She smelled so soft and fresh. Bolvar and Alaric had, too. Children, especially really young children, didn’t at all smell like the world around them. They were untouched by it all. Pure, clean. And in Freya’s case, precocious and sweet. Just like her father.


	26. Oathkept

When Freya grew tired and Enaeon declared it time for a nap, Luciana went to find Anduin. He was in Enaeon’s study, where two of the four walls had been converted into great bookshelves. Books, crystals Luciana knew contained information compatible with a draenic depository, and some random knickknacks lined the shelves.

“Hey,” Anduin greeted, looking up from a book written in the draenic language. He smiled at her, soft-eyed and warm. “Feeling better?”

“Some, yeah,” she sighed, leaning against him. He wrapped his arms around her back, one hand loosely holding the book. She tucked her nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled, and then smiled loosely. “I’m sorry, Anduin. I was afraid...” She trailed off, and was silent for a moment. “Of a lot of things, I guess. I was... unsure. I let that get in the way and I stopped thinking things through. I should’ve talked to you.”

“Yeah,” he hummed. She felt his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, raising goosebumps all along her shoulders. “We’re here now, at least,” he said. “You’ve thought things through, then?”

“A bit.” She sniffed, nosed at the soft flesh of his neck. He breathed a laugh and squirmed a bit and she trapped him in a hug so he couldn’t escape. “Ticklish?” she teased.

“You know very well that I am!”

She smiled against his skin, turned her head and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Freya can stay here,” she said softly. “But that means I will, too. I’ll put myself at the head of military business in Kalimdor, host some talks with Vol’jin’s Horde and co-lead Darnassian operations on the mainland. If I’m Commander in Chief while I’m here I’ll be in a better position to scout the next one.”

Anduin took a moment to respond, and his voice was quiet when he did. “You’ll visit me,” he told her. “Often. So I know you’re okay.”

“Every week,” she confirmed. “Every weekend, maybe, I’ll spend in Stormwind. Or, as much as I can. I’ll bring Naemete for easier travelling. I can leave Freya with Enaeon anytime, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Amadeus will be coming with you,” Anduin continued.

“I wouldn’t go anywhere without them.”

“You’ll have to find two new members.”

“Mm, a scout and a tank. I think that was a good idea Vic had.”

“You’re going to be Queen by that time. You’ll have to be more careful than ever. No going off on your own. You can’t even sleep without three other people there.”

“I’ll bring some Royal Guards. Or I’ll let Velen choose some people for me - that will show good faith on our part.”

“It would show impossibly high faith,” Anduin corrected. “To defend another nation’s Queen? It would show trust. Almost too much. You’ve already got Enaeon looking after your daughter. You might want to consider another race for your personal guards. Dwarves, maybe. They’re sturdy, and we’ve been allies a long time. Or Gileans, though they’re already housing with us. Pandaren, maybe,” Anduin said suddenly, brightly. “Tushui pandaren are known for being peaceful and trustworthy, but powerful fighters. If you bring a few of their monks along it would really help integrate them further into the Alliance.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, smiling softly. “Whatever I end up doing, I’ll have Amadeus, too.”

“That’s true. What about Alaric and Bolvar?”

“They’ll have you and Varian. And the Prince’s Guard, and Krino and Alkaros too. And I’m sure Des and Bann wouldn’t mind hosting the kids at the manor every now and then. SI:7 can go with them.”

“In high numbers.”

“Secure, and secret, so the kids can have their fun without guards staring down at them.”

Anduin hummed in agreement, moved one hand to her lower back. It crawled under her shirt to rest flat against the little patch clear of scars, cool against her feverish skin. She felt Light. Its gentle touch reminded her of the weeds at the bottom of a pond, curious and almost liquid in their movements.

She sighed heavily and shifted, tried to press every inch of herself against Anduin. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I know. I love you, too.”

“I know,” he repeated, teasingly. She felt his smile against her temple a moment before he kissed it, leaving a cool patch where the heat of his lips had rested for only a moment.

“Freya will stay in the Exodar,” Luciana murmured. “With the Naaru. If you say it’s best...”

“Velen did, too.”

“I trust you, Anduin. I don’t doubt Velen knows what he’s talking about. But I trust you.”

“You were just saying you’d trust him to assign you guards.”

“I trust you, Anduin. I trust your judgement. If you think he’s reliable, I’ll go along with it.”

“Oh, Lucy,” he muttered. He pressed her close with a hand at the back of her head. He put just enough pressure for her to feel it, and in response she squeezed him tightly with both arms. She felt breathless for a moment, and smiled. It was a nice feeling, not one she had too often, and she savoured the sudden hollowness of her bones, the tightness of her gut, the lightness in her ribcage.

“You know, two people with future sight have told me to trust my light,” she said. “I think the world is trying to tell me something.”

She felt more than heard his laugh. “It goes both ways,” he assured her. “If you really want Freya to come to Stormwind, if you think it’s best...”

“No,” she murmured. “No, she’ll stay here in the Exodar. She’s safe here, I know she is, and with Enaeon at her back nothing can touch her. And there’s a Naaru in the basement. I think she’ll be okay here.”

“I’m sure Velen wouldn’t at all mind hosting her,” Anduin said. “He thinks she’s adorable.”

“Precocious,” Luciana added.

“And absolutely precious,” Anduin finished. His grip loosened and he leaned back, letting his hand slide down to where it could rest on the side of her neck. He was smiling loosely, soft-eyed and warm. “You know, I still sometimes have a hard time believing it. You and me, we made three little children. But when I see a bit of you and a bit of me in them, I can believe it.”

“Oh, boy,” Luciana said lowly. “They’re going to be brats.” Anduin laughed, and she frowned. “Don’t laugh now, you little shit. You’re going to be the one with two on his hands.”

“Ah, but you’re going to have Freya,” he said. “Already manifesting her own Light. And I think she’s going to be the most intelligent. Or, at least, the sharpest. She’s already got your kind of wit.”

“I know,” Luciana groaned. “You know what she told me earlier?”

“What?”

“I told her well, we don’t count the carrot twice. We were listing and counting chili ingredients,” she explained. “And she said well, he put two carrot.”

Anduin’s laughter shook his whole frame and Luciana had to move her hands, firm, to his elbows to keep him from stumbling a step. “Oh, my Light,” he chuckled. “I think you’re the one who will have her hands full, love.”

“Don’t I know it. If she starts running off, I’m blaming you. Light-damned Wrynn genes,” she grumbled. “At least an Amadeus knows to get an adult to tag along, however reluctantly.”

“How would you manage to get an adult to tag along to a mud pie making contest?” Anduin asked.

“Simple. Tell them you’re going to swim in the canals with the pretty crabs and the catfish, and then run off. They’ll follow,” Luciana said, and Anduin laughed again.

“Always scheming, eh?” he said, pulling her back to his chest. She went willingly, settling against him like a river to its bed. “We’re going to be busy,” Anduin murmured.

“Yeah. We’ll manage.”

“Together,” he said firmly. “Whatever it is, together.”

“Together,” she agreed softly. “I’ve made quite a few oaths to you, Anduin Llane Wrynn. I will always come home to you. I will uphold the honour of Wrynn, pursue glory and greatness in its name, bear it an heir worthy of continuing its name, and sit proudly at the table of kings. I swore to honour the promise of betrothal, to marry you, to be loyal to you, and keep you and honour you. I swore to use my talents and abilities to better the House of Wrynn. And the one I’ll never forget,” she said.

“What?”

“Do you swear as a warrior, as a Knight, as a woman, to stand by Anduin through the good and the bad, to listen to his voice and see his heart, to love him despite his flaws and in light of his virtues? To protect him and guard his secrets, to let him heal you and guide you through the darkness? Do you swear to uphold your vows to him and love him as your partner?” she recited. “In her exact words, what the High Priestess said on the day of our wedding. And I said yes. I nearly broke it,” she said quietly. “I nearly broke my oath to let you heal me and guide me through the darkness. But, of course, you didn’t let me.”

“Of course not,” he hummed. “After all, I made you an oath, too. Do you swear as a priest, as a Prince, as a man, to stand by Luciana through the good and the bad, to listen to her voice and see her heart, to love her despite her flaws and in light of her virtues? To heal her and guide her through the darkness, to let her protect you and guard your secrets? Do you swear to uphold your vows to her and love her as your partner? And I think you know that I said yes, too, of course. What else would I say?” he asked. “No? How could I say I wouldn’t heal you? Guide you, and keep you, and let you protect me in turn?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I’m keeping my oath to you, Luciana. Every word, every piece of it. I will not let you fall to the darkness,” he swore. His voice was quiet, but it echoed with the Light. Not the soft, cooling Light he touched her with, but the fiery Light that burned away all else until nothing but a clarity that matched the purity of death remained. “And as long as you are mine to keep, I will keep you.”

“I know.”

They fell into an easy, familiar silence. Like they had hundreds of times before, they simply settled against each other, restful and at ease. Anduin carded his fingers through her hair, humming a gentle tune. She felt it in his chest, felt his breaths and the sound of his voice, under her hand splayed against his back.

“I’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “I’ll find a way to keep you. I won’t let this take you from me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I believe you.”

She was probably going to kill Wrathion when she returned to Stormwind for the announcement. Varian would likely want to crown them in short order, let them ascend to the throne so he could step down and take a break from the world for a little while. So he could rest, and heal a bit. She’d let him do that. And then she’d strangle Wrathion. She’d thank him, but she’d also strangle him. Possibly shake him around a bit, too. Maybe toss him off the balcony and then strangle him while shaking him. And thanking him. But mostly strangling.


	27. Ashkalo

Velen seemed to be expecting them when Luciana and Anduin went to find him. He wasn’t at his usual place in the Vault of Lights, but one of his Shields was able to direct the two visiting Royals to him.

“These are his private quarters,” Anduin murmured. Luciana heard it easily, even over the din of the everyday activities that echoed in the crystalline walls of the city-ship.

“They don’t look it.”

“He’s not one for grandeur and gold,” Anduin said.

“I can see that,” Luciana hummed. “I’ll let you knock.”

“He probably already knows we’re here.”

“What, fancy future sight?”

“No,” Anduin said slowly, eyeing her oddly. “He can sense me?” Anduin half-asked.

“Ah, right. Of course. How silly of me, a simple warrior, to forget that people with magic can sense other people with magic.”

“With Light,” Anduin corrected.

“Which is considered a form of magic. Holy magic, but magic nonetheless. So of course this poor warrior wouldn’t understand it.”

“Not past that ridiculous attitude,” he grumbled. He raised his hand and pressed a button beside the door before Luciana could respond. She heard cheerful chiming from inside.

“A doorbell,” she said wonderingly. “The Prophet of the Light, the Ageless One, has a doorbell.”

“What else would he have?” Anduin asked, confused. Luciana glanced at him and saw the quirk of his lips that he never really managed to hide when he tried to mess with her, and scoffed.

“You have such obvious tells,” she muttered.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

The door slid open to reveal Velen, dressed in simple robes. The sigil of the Light was ever-present before the crest at his forehead, and today there was also a smile on his face and two braids ending in simple golden beads in his beard.

“You visited the orphanage?” Anduin asked.

“And a few of the younglings got their hands in my beard,” Velen confirmed. “Please, do come in, young ones. It does no good to stand around in the doorway.”

Anduin stepped in first, at ease despite the obvious stress there should have been in dealing with another faction leader. And yet, Luciana didn’t feel the stress either. She realized, watching Anduin interact so easily with Velen, that they were not dealing with another faction leader, nor were they even present as faction leaders. They were parents, speaking with a priest about the future of their child.

She smiled privately, watched Anduin interact with Velen, and let it fall after a moment. She watched attentively as Velen guided Anduin into a living room of sorts, letting her trail in behind him. It was sparsely decorated but furnished comfortably, and she wondered briefly if it was really Velen’s personal home. It seemed odd to her that he would live in an apartment like any other draenei. But then, she knew they did not regard social ranks like humans or dwarves did. To the draenei, the Exiled Ones who’d been chased across the cosmos for thousands of years, if you were under the Light you were equals.

“It appears you’ve come to a decision,” Velen said once they were all seated. He’d taken a well-loved armchair, metal and stylized and padded with rich purple, with faded patches in the cushions of its armrests. Luciana noticed they coincided with where his hands rested when he laid his arms along them.

“We have,” Anduin confirmed. “Freya will remain here, in the Exodar. We know that she will be safe here, as she has been these past two years. We know that Enaeon will continue to care for her as his own, and we know that with O’ros’ presence, she will grow strong and healthy.”

“Do not doubt any of this,” Velen told them. “As a child of the Light, born into it and of it, she belongs here as would any other. Stormwind will always be her home, but the Exodar will too be a home to her.”

“It already is,” Luciana said, her tone neutral. Velen’s gaze shifted to her and she felt suddenly ill at ease. It seemed to her that he was seeing right through her, straight to her heart, and it was discomfiting when it wasn’t Anduin.

“I am glad, then,” Velen said, and offered her a small but warm smile. “And you, Luciana? Will you visit as you once did?”

“I would remain here in the Exodar, if you did not find issue with it,” she replied. “There are too many issues to count that must be dealt with in Kalimdor, least of all the situation in Ashenvale and the troubles raised there by a Horde city desperately in need of lumber. From the Exodar, I could keep watch over Freya and act as a parent should while overseeing military and ambassadorial operations. It’s close enough to Teldrassil to make communicate with Darnassus easier, and with the abundance of resources and skilled hands in this branch of the Alliance I’m sure I’ll find ways to keep conflict from reigniting.”

“The end of a war is both joyous, and perilous,” Velen intoned.

“We will not let any nation’s economy collapse,” Anduin promised. “There are already ideas circulating and I’m sure that by the time were return to Stormwind to organize Freya’s continued stay here, there will be solutions as well.”

“It is good to hear that Stormwind is keeping its allies in mind,” Velen said.

“Stormwind is only as good as its word,” Luciana said firmly. “We are part of an Alliance, Prophet, and we will never forget that.”

“It is always promising to see a generation rising to its challenges,” Velen said with a smile. “You have decided to keep Freya in the Exodar, where O’ros might shape her into a wondrous Light. And you, too, Luciana, have decided to remain in the Exodar. I know that of the previous generation, there are few who would willingly depend so much upon others, even those of their own race.”

“We are not the previous generation,” Luciana said, her eyes hard. “We are the new one. All of the draenei I’ve ever dealt with have been honest. Unyielding and wary, but honest. Enaeon, Lokaal, Naemete, Avrun, Monora, Krino and Alkaros. None of them have given me any reason to believe that the draenei would betray Stormwind’s trust in them. And so I won’t.”

Velen nodded slowly, almost somberly, but then he smiled affectionately and raised his chin again and it was like the sun breaking through a dense fog. “We would be glad to have you here,” he told her. “And we will make sure you are welcome and safe.”

“Thank you, Prophet.” Luciana bowed her head for a moment, acknowledging his words but also his sheer generosity at agreeing to host her without any sort of counter-demand or cost. She could easily take advantage of it, and all of her years as a Knight and as a noble child were screaming at her to take it. But, she wouldn’t. The draenei were good people. They deserved the same honesty and respect they showed to her. “I will not prove your kindness and trust misplaced.”

“I know,” he said warmly. “But, you seem unsure still.”

“I’m a warrior, Prophet,” Luciana said simply. “I don’t understand what Anduin means when he tries to explain how Freya’s Light will develop into something healthier if she’s here, rather than in Stormwind. To me, the priests who grow up in the Cathedral are the same as those who grow here.”

“There are... intricacies to it that must be felt, rather than explained,” Velen said. “Perhaps it would help if you met O’ros?”

Anduin’s hand jumped to her thigh, gripping it tightly through the heavy cloth of her pants. She turned her head slowly to look at him, brows raised, and he smiled sheepishly and loosened his grip a bit. “You should,” he said. “I’ve gone to see them before. It’s wonderful. It’s like...” he trailed off. “Do you remember when I asked you what it felt like? My Light?” he started. “It’s like that. Except, to a much higher degree.”

“I might,” she said noncommittally. It sat wrong with her somehow. It seemed odd to her that they would discuss it so casually. Visiting with a Naaru, a being of pure Light, bothering them because she felt uneasy about a very mortal concern. It seemed like something she was supposed to ask for rather than simply take.

“It is very likely completely different from what you are thinking.” Velen’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked back to him. “The Naaru do not stand on ceremony. They are not mortal, but they are empathy and compassion just as much as they are judgement and burning purity. They have a complete and unquestioning respect for life in all forms that few mortals have for themselves. I believe it might help ease your mind if you were to speak with O’ros.”

“As much as one can speak to a Naaru,” Anduin said teasingly, giving Luciana’s thigh a squeeze before taking his hand back.

“Perhaps I’ll bring Freya to see him, then,” Luciana said.

“I think she would enjoy seeing them,” Velen replied.

“And they don’t mind?” Luciana said, mentally correcting herself. She’d used a gendered pronoun, and Velen had insisted on using a neutral one. Obviously the Naaru didn’t prescribe to mortal gender any more than they did mortal ceremony.

“They do not,” Velen said surely. “How could they when they are the ones who invited us, a hunted people, to join them in the Light? How could they deny one who has need of them any more than a parent can deny their own child’s needs?”

Luciana didn’t verbalize her doubts. The Naaru were not parents, she wanted to say. They were beings, creatures of crystallized Light who could raze entire worlds with burning Holy Fire, shield a ship full of magic and Light from the Burning Legion itself for thousands of years. She’d heard of them, yes. Adventurers had plenty of words to say about them. They were ones who could guide that ship to the one world where it could land safely and become a part of that world. They were not parents caring for needy children. They were not doting caretakers to be called on at the first sign of doubt.

This was one more thing that she’d simply have to file away, close her eyes, and trust Anduin’s assessment of the ground she walked on. He would know the Naaru better than her. She didn’t know enough to take command and formulate a plan, so she’d just bow her head to the one who did. That it was Anduin to whom she was bowing her head made it much easier. He had yet to steer her wrong, and she knew she could trust that he had her best interests at heart.

Velen didn’t seem to have much more to talk about, and Anduin seemed content to sit in silence with his old mentor. Luciana, almost always a hair’s breadth away from actually vibrating, felt unbelievably restless. Without even comparing herself to the serenity of the Prophet, or the calm assuredness of her priestly husband, she knew she was obviously agitated. Finally, Velen smiled at her.

“Ah, but I’ve kept you long enough, I think,” he said. “I can see that as any warrior would, you are not enjoying sitting still for so long. I’ll let you go, then, young ones.”

“It was a pleasure to see you again, as always,” Anduin said, standing and reaching out. Velen presented his hand palm-up and Anduin laid his palm-down over it. Luciana could hear the humming of their Light. She wondered briefly if it was some kind of strange greeting between priests.

“And you, my student,” Velen said warmly. “Go, then. Speak to O’ros now, or later, if you please. They are always welcoming to visitors.”

“Take care, _ashkalo_ ,” Anduin said.

Luciana bowed her head briefly. “Thank you for your generosity and understanding, Prophet,” she said easily. “I will not forget all you have done for us. For me,” she added.

“I don’t doubt it,” Velen said, with a bit of joking humour Luciana chose to ignore.

When the door shut behind them and Anduin moved to start walking away, Luciana gently grabbed his wrist. He stopped, turned to look at her with surprise and some concern. “What is it?” he murmured, closing in and leaning his head down so that they would not be overheard.

“I don’t feel comfortable popping in on a Naaru, Anduin,” she said quietly. “It seems...”

“Inappropriate?” he offered.

“Improper,” she corrected. “Just... wrong, somehow. They’re not doting parents, Anduin. They’re beings of pure Light.”

“And you’re afraid of them,” he said softly.

“No.”

“You are.” She had hesitated to answer and he brushed the hair out of her face, smoothing it back. “Don’t be. They’re nothing to be afraid of.”

“I don’t like it, still,” she said. “I’ll bring Freya down, but I think you should bring her into the chamber. You’re a priest, you belong there.”

“And you don’t? Luciana, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t belong in the Light. Aren’t you the one who said that you pray that one day you’ll rest with the Light? You can do that now,” he said, and then his heart beat picked up a notch and he laughed breathlessly. “That’s it!” he whispered, eyes bright. He cupped her face and tilted it up, excitement nearly bubbling up out of him. “That’s it!” he repeated. “You calmed down from your berserking when I bathed you in Light. You relax when you’re Shielded. Well, maybe O’ros can go further than that. Maybe they can do what I can’t.”

“What? Put me down for a nap? Haven’t had one of those in ages,” she said, trying to deflect it with her usual dry humour.

“No, Lucy,” he said. “Pull you out. Push away the darkness, permanently.”

She lost track of her breathing for a moment as it stopped, and her gaze slid from his eyes to somewhere near his jaw. She shook her head slowly, and Anduin nodded frantically.

“Yes! Don’t you see?” he said. “If a Shield can relax you, and an Absolution could bring you out of your berserk state, then imagine what a Naaru could do! Lucy,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze and a shake. “Lucy, don’t back away from this. From me. Don’t be afraid to think about it - don’t be afraid to hope.”

“That’s what it all comes down to, it seems,” she said weakly, echoing the words Wrathion had said to her less than a month ago. 

“And it’s what saves us,” Anduin said firmly. “And it’s what will save you. Luciana, you have to... Well, you don’t have to, but you should. You should try. If not for yourself, because you think you’re doomed either way, then for me.”

“What’s an Absolution?” she asked suddenly.

“What I did with you before, bathing you completely in Light,” he explained shortly. “Lucy, you should do it.”

“I have too much blood on me, Anduin,” she said quietly. “I pray that one day I’ll rest with the Light, but I don’t think I will. I don’t think O’ros will see me like you do.”

“What are you saying?” He gave her another little shake, and then cupped her jaw again and tilted her head up to even out the scant few inches between them. “Lucy, you’re not damned.” He said it like it was a joke, unthinkable in its sheer ridiculousness. “You’re one of the greatest people I know. A great Knight, a great leader of your people, and a good person. One of the people with the most good in her heart, in all of Azeroth. Your whole life, you’ve tried to protect people. Teach them, guide them and keep them safe. You’ve sacrificed yourself, your mind and your body and even your heart to make sure those around you were safe. You’re marked by a lifetime of war and loneliness,” he said, voice softening. She felt his thumb gently stroke the right side of her jaw, the heavy scarring not bothering him. It never had. 

“I don’t feel it,” she murmured.

“You have only ever wanted to be good,” Anduin said. “You’ve wanted to do good, to be good. You were willing to destroy yourself to let others be safe. You are selfless, and strong, and you are good,” he said, unblinking, and she had a hard time meeting his gaze. She felt unclean, improper. “You are worthy,” he said softly. “You are. I don’t doubt it, and you shouldn’t either, because I know. I know you, Lucy. I know your heart, with your fury and with everything else.”

She swallowed thickly, looked down for a moment. Anduin’s eyes looked like the morning sky to her, endless and too blue and too bright.

“Trust me on this, Lucy,” he murmured, kissing her softly. “Bring Freya to see O’ros. And then go to them yourself.”

“You’ll come with me,” she said. She almost asked, but she knew it wasn’t really a question that needed to be voiced.

“Always.”


	28. Strain

There was only so much a body could do to put up with the strains put on it by a warrior’s fury. Luciana was nearly twenty-eight, and having been considered a warrior since she was ten, she had nearly two decades to make up for.

It didn’t often occur, but some nights she’d lay down to rest, and her body would start to ache. It would start innocuously - a sore neck, spreading to her shoulders, or an ache in her knee that moved up into her thigh. And because it happened so slowly, when she was already partially asleep, she couldn’t see the warning signs. She never had enough time to alert Anduin and cut it off at the source.

By the time she knew something was really wrong enough to wake him, her whole body would ache fiercely. Even her head would pound, and if she tried to turn it she’d feel like it was full of sloshing water and stinging nettles.

Anduin’s cool touch would lighten it, and his Light would ward away the worst of the pain, but in the end all she could do was wait. She’d wait, clenching her teeth until her jaws screamed at her more loudly than the rest of her body. Otherwise she’d whine like a whipped dog. She knew Anduin suffered seeing her in such pain. She didn’t want to make him feel worse, like somehow he wasn’t doing enough.

This night, she knew, was worse than others. It was one of the reasons she knew, _she knew_ , that she was going to die soon unless some miracle occurred. It felt like her body was fighting itself, trying to tear itself apart to find resources it had used up ages ago.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Anduin murmur for the tenth time in as many minutes. “Lucy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”

She tried to speak, but if a sound came out she knew it would be a whimper. Instead, she huffed a breath through her nose and swallowed her voice before it could come screaming out.

All there was to do in situations like these was to wait it out. She used to say that she would keep marching, but this was too much even for that. All she could do now was curl up in Anduin’s lap and try not to scream, and wait. It would pass eventually. It never lasted beyond four or five hours. But those few hours were absolute hell. She was in hell. She was in the void, chained to a Pit Lord and surrounded by hungry fel hunters.

Her back would start to seize when she was at the halfway point. Then she’d start to feel dizzy, and then it would intensify into vertigo and nausea and that was the worst part. Physical pain was easy for her. Nausea was not. When the episode was nearing its end, she’d feel the pain pulse in time with her heartbeat, and it would slowly lessen until it was gone, and she would be dried out and exhausted, trembling in the fetal position on sweat-soaked sheets with Anduin’s hands in her hair and on her fever-heated skin.

When it was over, she would normally stay in bed until she felt well enough to stand. That would be determined by how her head felt. If she tried to stand up while it was still swimming, she’d stumble and fall back down. If she waited until it merely ached or her ears rang, she’d be okay. Anduin would prepare a hot bath for her with medicinal herbs and oils, and a soft cloth to clean her skin of sweat, and she’d let him wash her while she closed her eyes and rested against the side of the tub, the sudden absence of pain making her feel oddly light and disoriented.

This time, Luciana waited until her head only hurt behind her eyes, but didn’t get up. She wondered if Varian had ever suffered like this. She wondered if her old Knight Champion had suffered like this. She wondered if any soldier who was not a warrior had suffered, and she wondered why she had to suffer. It couldn’t be a price for her fury, because she’d never actively chosen to have it. In fact, she’d often cursed it.

“Luciana?” Anduin murmured. Past the faint hum that the entire Exodar seemed to constantly emit, past the rumbling of a distant air circulation unit, past the ambient sounds of the night, she focused on him. His heartbeat jumped out at her, steady and sure. His hand was a welcome weight on her side, grounding her. His scent washed over her, familiar and safe. “Love?”

“Why do I have to suffer?” she asked him. Her voice was raw and coarse from the pain. She felt the warning signs of tears coming, and tried to swallow her voice again. It didn’t work. “Why must I constantly suffer?” she asked thickly.

“I don’t know, Lucy,” Anduin murmured. “Do you want me to prepare a bath?”

“No. I want to die.” The words slipped out, and she wanted to bite herself for it, because she could hear Anduin’s sudden intake of breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Luciana,” he said, leaning over her to kiss her shoulder. “Don’t apologize for your feelings. Never apologize for that. If you’re feeling bad, it’s my duty as your husband to support you and help you get through it. You’re supposed to tell me everything, even the bad things, so I can stand by you through all of it. Everything life throws at us.” He brushed sweat-matted hair away from her face and her eyes tried to flicker shut. She’d never been so tired as she was after an episode. Wracking pain and trembling, overworked muscles were her entire world for hours, and all she could do was wait. And then, when it was over, crawl into a bath and cry. Quiet tears, as she had no energy left to sob.

Luciana struggled with it, and Anduin helped when he saw that she was trying to turn onto her back. She wanted to be looking at him, not the wall. The wall would only stare back and judge her. Anduin would be tender and careful with her like the world had never been, and he’d help as best he could, which was more than anyone else could say.

“I want to die,” she said softly. “I want it to stop. Eighteen years, Anduin. Eighteen years of this. I just want it to end.”

She could clearly see the shine of tears in his eyes and the way he blinked them away, turning his head for a moment and working his mouth like there was a bad taste in it. “I know,” he said softly, sniffing and looking down at her. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I do everything I can. Maybe O’ros can help. Or maybe Velen knows something that can ease it.”

“I want it to end.”

“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and with her hand flopped uselessly against his stomach she felt him sigh. “I’m sorry.”

There was silence for a short time. Probably minutes, but to Luciana they felt longer. “I want to die,” Luciana said softly, once more, and then she was done. She’d expressed it, finally, like Anduin had apparently wanted her to, and she waited to see if she should regret it.

“We’ll find a way,” Anduin murmured. “I’m not ready to give you up. But I won’t see your suffering continue. We’ll find a way.” He wiped her sweaty, dirty hair away from her face and kissed her forehead again. “Do you want a hot bath? It helped last time.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll put the blanket over you for now. I’ll be just down the hall. Do you want me to go and get Enaeon?”

“No.”

“Okay. I won’t be long.” He gave her a soft kiss before he slipped off the bed. His bare feet padded quietly around the room, the sound differing from the carpet to the bare metal floor. He tugged the blanket up over Luciana’s weak form, tucked it around her legs and hips, and adjusted her pillows to save her neck. “I won’t be long,” he repeated quietly. He left the door open behind him so that he could hear her if she called out. She wouldn’t - she never did - but he did it anyway. Left that option open, just in case.

Anduin returned for her soon after he left. He helped her sit up, put a gentle hand full of Light to her head when she groaned that it was spinning, and steadied her when she swayed dangerously on her feet. He tied her house robe around her waist, and helped her walk down the hall with a supportive arm around her back. Luciana half expected Enaeon to pop his head into the bathroom, but she knew he was still in his own apartment, fast asleep. Or perhaps he was awake, checking on Freya like he did every night. 

Enaeon had said once that sometimes he would find Freya sitting awake, wide-eyed and unresponsive, and he’d take her into the kitchen and prepare a cup of hot milk for her. Freya had told him several times that the world was “too loud”. Luciana didn’t have the energy to worry about it. Tomorrow, she’d worry. Tonight, she was going to collapse into the tub and let Anduin care for her.

The bath smelled of mild lavender, sungrass, and mageroyal. Luciana sank into the steaming water with a relieved sigh, her tense muscles relaxing until she was laid out in the tub, her arms slung over the sides. Normally she’d be more than uncomfortable in hot water. She’d been known to jump out of it, intolerant of the high temperature on top of her own perpetually overheated core. But after spending nearly five hours tenser than an elementium coil, her body was completely exhausted and couldn’t keep its own temperature at a stable, appropriate level. The hot water was a welcome reprieve.

“Is it too hot?” Anduin asked.

Luciana murmured a negative. She closed her eyes and used her hearing, listened to Anduin instead of watching. He dipped his hands into the water, swished them around to mix up the oils a bit more. There was a cloth in his hands. The scents of the oils wafted up to Luciana’s nose, disturbed from the water by his actions. He lifted the cloth out of the water and it sloshed back to the tub noisily and he wrung it out, but not fully. It still dripped as he brought it to Luciana’s neck, gently cleaning the dried sweat and salt from her skin.

Her arms and her shoulders were next, and then her chest. He reached further into the tub to rub the cloth over her stomach in soothing circles. When he put his hand to her back and gently encouraged her to lean forward she obeyed, and he dipped the cloth in the water and washed her back as well.

Next, he tilted her head back and placed a hand towel over her eyes. It was damp with clean, cool water, folded into a neat rectangle, and she held it in place while he slowly poured a cup full of water over her head. He massaged her scalp with the pads of his fingers, and then rested his palms over her temples to let his Light wash away the remains of her headache and nausea.

When Anduin was finished washing her, he set about massaging the rest of the aching out of her arms. She always enjoyed it when he massaged her hands, especially, and he took care to do it now, loving and slow.

“Feel any better?” he murmured, waking her out of a daze.

“Mm,” she responded. It took a moment for her to find her words again. “Yeah. I’m tired.”

“I know.” He kissed her palm and her fingers twitched slightly against his cheek. She felt his smile against her hand before he brought it back down to continue rubbing the knuckles of her fingers. “I love you,” he said. “You are my love, Luciana.”

“And you are my light.”

Her voice was quiet and slurred, but Anduin still heard her. He brushed his hand down her arm, slowly and tenderly, in response.

By the time she was dried off, it was nearly time to get up for the day. Still, Luciana returned to the wide bed in their borrowed apartment and curled around a pillow. The room was pitch black, the windows and door tightly sealed. She’d shoved extra towels and blankets into the crook at the base of the door and wedged them into the windows to block as much light and sound from the room as possible. Anduin would be ill at ease in such a sensory-deprived room, too used to hearing the castle creak and groan and quiet footsteps patter in the walls. Luciana knew it, and made an excuse for him to be outside the room. He’d still insisted on being in it with her.

“Sleep, my love,” he murmured against her shoulder, tucking himself up against her back and draping an arm over her. “The day can wait a little while longer.”

Luciana was too tired to argue. Too tired of being in pain, of being lonely, of suffering. Too tired of being.


	29. O'ros

The bed was comfortable and Anduin’s steady heartbeat against her back was soothing. His slow, measured breathing provided a comforting background and she found herself dozing. Luciana could have laid there for hours and wasted an entire day, but she didn’t want to keep Enaeon and Freya waiting overlong. They were supposed to meet with her and Anduin at ten o’clock at the top of the curling ramp that led down into the belly of the Exodar.

Luciana sat up when she felt she’d been laying down long enough, and Anduin stirred and yawned soon after. He wouldn’t be able to get around in the dark room, but she had excellent night vision and opened the window shutters a bit to let some light in.

“We can take another hour if you need,” Anduin said.

“No, let’s go,” Luciana replied.

They had brought simple clothes to wear in the Exodar. Luciana had things that wouldn’t mark her more than her scars already did. Anduin was recognizable by many even without the lion’s head of the royal crest pinned to his chest, but he’d be left alone if he wore priest’s robes instead of his usual princely outfits. Thankfully, the draenei were never really ones to swarm people, even famous ones - though they’d been known to queue up around the block for newly released Wobbletop toys.

Luciana felt ill, too much so to eat breakfast. It worried Anduin and she could tell. It wasn’t only the hours of wracking pain, but the anxiety at meeting a Naaru. She knew what would happen, knew that she’d be rejected. She also knew that it wasn’t logical to think that, but she was sure enough that it would happen anyway that she didn’t want to go and find out. Either it’d be true, and she’d be proven right, or... or the Naaru would accept her and she’d be left floundering and wondering why. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. A warrior, a berserker who enjoyed pain, enjoyed breaking people, didn’t deserve something like that.

Halfway to the ramp leading down to the Seat of the Naaru, Luciana stopped mid step. Anduin stopped as well, watched her with no small amount of concern until she moved again, and gently took her hand when she was walking. She came to another stop closer to the ramp, and again started walking on her own. The third time, when Enaeon was in sight with Freya holding his tail with one hand, the other against her mouth, Luciana froze completely. 

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can,” Anduin replied, moving closer to her. Close enough that she could feel him brushing against her side. “You’re going to try.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” he said softly.

He was patient, and eventually she took a slow step forward. When Anduin matched her pace it became a little easier, and they walked side by side towards Enaeon and Freya.

Freya was the first to see them, and stared at them wide-eyed until Luciana crouched down in front of her. “Hello again, little one,” she greeted, and Freya reached out. Luciana too her hand and opened her arms, ready to pick her up, but Freya’s other hand remained firmly clenched around the end of Enaeon’s tail.

“Seems she wants to hold hands with everyone,” Enaeon joked when Freya stared up at Anduin.

“Freya, do you want to stay with Uncle En?” Luciana asked. Freya shook her head and released his tail, taking three awkward steps until her face was against Luciana’s chest. “Do you want to get up?” Freya nodded, and Luciana easily picked her up and let the child lean against her massive shoulder. “Did you have a good rest last night?”

“Yah.”

“Good. Say hello to Papa.”

“Hi Papa,” Freya said dutifully, waving at Anduin.

“Hello, Freya,” Anduin said. Luciana could hear his smile more than she could see it. She even felt his Light flickering happily along her spine, even though he wasn’t touching her. “Hello, lovely little one.”

“Hi.”

“I will go ahead and let them know you are coming,” Enaeon said quietly, and Luciana nodded. “Give me just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” she murmured with another nod, and Enaeon turned to clop noisily down the metal ramp.

Luciana let Anduin entertain Freya during the short wait. She bounced her daughter against her chest a few times when her attention wandered. When her mental countdown reached zero from five minutes, she half-turned to speak to Anduin. “Let’s start moving,” she said. "It's a long way down."

“Okay.” Anduin pulled her closer to him with an arm around her waist, and while they walked he simply let his hand rest on her back. She could hear him cooing to Freya, but Luciana’s attention was elsewhere.

No one greeted them at the bottom of the ramp, save O’ros. The sight of the Naaru, to Luciana, was completely alien and indescribable. She’d never seen anything like it, not even in Anduin’s Light, not in the Light of a priestly champion, not in the combined might of nearly thirty paladins of the Argent Crusade working together to heal the injured en masse.

Freya squealed excitedly and squirmed something awful until Luciana stooped down to let her go. She rushed in with fumbling, straight-legged steps until she was right in front of O’ros levitating form. Luciana’s first instinct was to rush in with her, but that would mean exposing herself to the gentle, singing Light that filled the chamber and reached up all the way to the topmost tip of the Exodar itself.

Luciana turned her head to stare at Anduin. He could obviously see her distress, as his brow furrowed and he leaned in to speak quietly to her. “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

Luciana looked at Freya, who was now reaching up to try and touch O’ros, and then back to Anduin.

“You can go in,” he murmured. “Go with her.”

Luciana didn’t speak, instead looking at Enaeon. He saw her distress, too, and nodded. It looked more like a shallow bow, to her. The great draenei moved slowly but surely to Freya’s side, standing close enough to reach out and grab her if she fell or if something went wrong, somehow. He also stood off to the side so that Luciana could clearly see her young daughter.

“Lucy?”

She looked back at Anduin. He reached up and brushed a bit of stray hair away from her forehead - she needed to get it trimmed again, she thought idly - and he opened his mouth and spoke, but she couldn’t hear him.

_Do not be afraid of the gentle Light, child. You have been too long in the dark._

Tears gathered in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks, and Anduin’s brow furrowed in worry as he reached up to brush it away, but she didn’t hear him. The voice that had spoken to her had reached into her mind, just as Goldrinn’s once had, but it was completely different. It reminded her of winter days spent curled up with her siblings in front of the crackling hearth, a blanket wrapped around them all, Frederic in her lap. She felt it like she could a cool breeze, or the silky softness of Shauna’s ears.

Anduin’s scent, and then Varian’s and Bolvar’s and Alaric’s scents all pricked at her mind, recalled by the sheer familiarity of the voice. She’d never heard it before in her life. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she hadn’t. But it was more familiar than anything, anyone else.

“Lucy?” Anduin murmured. And then he smiled, joyously. “Oh,” he said simply, looking up into space somewhere beside her head.

“Oh,” Lucy mocked. “Is that all you ever say? Oh.”

“Hush up,” he scolded gently, smile softening. “Are they speaking to you too?”

“They were. Are,” she corrected when she heard the murmur of their voice returning.

_Step willingly out of the darkness, child, just as the Exiled Ones did, and be welcomed forever and now as a child of the Light. Your husband is here already, as is your daughter, and your forebears. They are safe here, in the embrace of the Light, as you will be one day, or today. The choice is yours to make._

Luciana’s head turned slowly, until she was looking up to the brilliant, shimmering light of O’ros crystalline form. They must have been close to three storeys tall, their multitude of pieces spread out in a puzzle-like form that shifted and rotated slowly and constantly, yet their general form remained the same. Luciana could see a blazing white heart in the center of O’ros ovular centerpiece, what she assumed to be a sort of head or nerve center. It reminded her of Shalamayne’s fiery golden heart.

O’ros did not speak again, waiting for her to make her decision. They had spoken as though Luciana’s eventual movement to the Light was inevitable, but she could choose to expedite the process today by willingly stepping out of the darkness. But being alone was familiar, easy at this point, and despite their reassuring tone and the emotional and comfort of their presence, and even with Anduin’s hand curled around the side of her thick waist, Luciana was unsure if she would really be accepted into the Light, if she could be accepted into it despite the violence that was innate to her. Her hands were bloody. She’d enjoyed making them that way, enjoyed the agony and absolute terror she inspired in her enemies and the targets of her fury.

“Let’s go together,” Anduin murmured. He moved to stand next to her, his hand taking hers. She hesitated still at the edge of the Seat, just beyond the reach of O’ros gentle Light. It seemed to her to be a hymn, a quiet and slow love song hummed from an ancient throat. She wondered idly if it would burn her when she walked into it.

She looked up at Anduin once more. Trust your light, she’d been told. Well, she trusted him. “You think I should.”

“I think we both should.”

She nodded, turning back to face O’ros. Freya was in Enaeon’s arms now so that she could reach up even further. O’ros had also reached down to meet her tiny hand with a fragment of glowing, singing crystal. Its core was navy, fluctuating with brighter and softer blues, and its outer lining was silvery white. It was beautiful, reminding Luciana of a wintery ocean seen from Stormwind’s docks.

She inhaled deeply, ignoring that her senses seemed dulled by the Naaru’s Light. It seemed suspicious to her, made her uneasy, but Anduin trusted it. That was enough for her. It had to be, and always would be. She would trust in her light. He’d never guide her wrong.

The first few steps changed nothing, and they were hard, and she nearly cringed when the Light of the chamber touched her skin. She didn’t know what she was expecting - perhaps pain, or an immediate action of burning rejection from O’ros. Nothing happened, and walking became easier until she was at the center of the Seat, right beside Enaeon. He’d moved aside with Freya braced against his shoulder to make room for them.

“Welcome to the Seat of the Naaru,” he said quietly, smiling broadly. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

_Welcome to the Light,_ O’ros’ voice said at the same time. _Now and forever, you are both of the Army of the Light._

It was like the first time Varian had hugged her in his office. A complete surprise, a bit awkward in its newness but so caring and so full of empathy that she wanted to cry. This time, she let her tears fall, let her shoulders shake. This time, she turned to Anduin and buried her face against his shoulder and cried openly even as his arms came up to enclose her, safeguard her until she could stand again on her own. 

O’ros’ Light didn’t leave her even though Anduin’s rose to comfort her. Both embraced her, rushed up and down her back and made her feel like she was in the heart of a mountain, untouchable and quiet, not still and not silent but peaceful and patient. 

The heart of a volcano would perhaps be more accurate, because though the embrace of the Light was slower than the earth’s movements and heavy and ancient and all manners of peaceful, there was still a compressed ball of absolute fury in her core. It could explode and devastate everything around her, but it was contained. It was still a forest fire raging down the side of Hyjal, but it was a controlled fire meant to burn away old growth to make room for new life. She would gladly be that for her people. 

_Welcome to the Light,_ the Naaru’s voice echoed in her mind. _Now and forever more._

“How do you feel?” Anduin murmured, rubbing her back gently as her crying subsided. “Does your head still hurt?” 

She’d completely forgotten that she’d ever been in pain when O’ros had embraced her in Light. She shook her head against Anduin’s shoulder. 

“What about your back?” he asked. She shook her head again. 

“What about you?” she murmured. 

“Not at all.” 

“Will it last?” 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s not nearly as bad as yours.” 

“That doesn’t matter. It’s still pain.” 

“I’m fine,” he soothed. 

_No longer will your own heart pain you, child_ , O’ros said. The Light seemed to shift and shimmer around her, imitating the motions of Anduin’s hand down her back. It was like being a child again, crying in her brother’s arms and having their gangly teenage forms wrap around her protectively, completely, telling her that she was safe without any doubts or questions. Like then, she felt relaxed, at ease. She knew that nothing could touch her, and she could settle down and relax. It would be taken care of. 

_No longer will your body suffer from its own machinations._ She felt at ease now. Like she had felt lost in the sea when Anduin’s Light had washed into her to bring her out of her berserking, she could not differentiate between the borders of her own self and the Light surrounding her. She didn’t mind. This was the same Light that Anduin used to calm her, to soothe her, to love her. Whatever it had, whatever it was, it was good just as he was. 

_No longer will you suffer as a warrior. You will stand proud, powerful and mighty, with the Light in your heart and your fury brought to bear. Your fury will be yours, now, as you are the Light’s. Never again will you find need to question your worthiness. Hear now, Luciana, that you are worthy. You are of the Light, and you are loved by the Light as are all other children of the Light. You will never have need to defend yourself while in the Light. You will always return to the Light, for it is where your husband dwells now and before and forever. And you will always be welcome._

Luciana let her eyes fall shut, her breathing slow, and her form relax in Anduin’s embrace, her hand clenched in the cloth between his shoulders. Tears still trickled down her face from the sheer emotion she felt, more than any other time in her life, more even than her wedding, more even than any time she’d held her children or heard them speak or seen them walk. This was all of those things, everything in her life both good and bad, mixed together and then tinted with the glory of the Holy Light. It seemed to her that all of Creation existed for the sole purpose of allowing her to exist, to suffer and live and then to find the Light with Anduin’s hand gently tugging her towards it. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. She knew Anduin wouldn’t hear her, even close as he was, but O’ros would. He would feel it, hear it from her heart, from the vibrations of her voice in her chest. 

_You are welcome, Luciana. Never doubt that you are welcome. Let your husband, your children, be your reminder. Let them bring you out of the darkness each time you enter it. See the day as you see the night, let them balance in you, and be at peace._

“Thank you,” she said again, nearly silent, her breathing heavy, and she squeezed Anduin tightly for a moment. She probably wouldn’t ever be able to express to him what she was feeling. She’d always had difficulty doing it, like the door was open but not enough for her to actually enter the room. The most she’d ever been able to do was stick her arm in, let Anduin touch her hand. But she would try anyway, for every day she had left. 

_Your body will not kill you, Luciana. It will not destroy itself, nor suffer from its own machinations. Your body will renew just as the sun rises each day. As the moon reflects it glory even in the darkest of nights, your light will keep you on the good path. All you must do is follow him. All you must do is turn to the Light. When your moon wanes, turn to the Light, and it will renew again._

Freya would be staying in the Exodar, within O’ros reach, and Luciana had never felt more gladdened by anything. If this was what Freya would grow up with, Luciana knew that someday soon she’d be a great force of righteousness and compassion. How could anyone not be, with something like O’ros as an immovable presence at their back, the bright Light of Creation guiding their steps? And Luciana was to stay in the Exodar with her, for at least a few years. 

The Light washed over her anew and her breathe rushed from her chest. It tightened like a vice and for a few moments she couldn’t move from the force of it. “Oh,” she breathed. 

“Is that all you can say?” Anduin teased, but his voice was thick with emotion. “Oh. Well, it’s appropriate right now, I’d say.” 

She smacked at his lower back, weakly. “Hush up,” she said in a wavering voice, but she was smiling, and she tucked her face into Anduin’s neck and took in his scent. Honeysuckle and spice tea with milk, dry wood and sleep-mussed sheets, something fiery and clean - the Light. He smelled of the Light. 

She smiled against his neck. He smelled of the Light. He smelled of home. Her home. 


	30. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped this fixes the issue I've been having with 47-48 and duplicate chapters... turns out I missed chapter 30.  
> Woops.

Luciana could have stood under O’ros for days. Weeks. There was a gentle, soothing hymn echoing faintly in her bones, and the Light was warm and cool, strange and familiar, soft and firm all at once on her skin. She felt no pain, no discomfort, no urge to get up and move. And, most importantly of all, Anduin’s arm remained around her back, and Freya was in her arms, reaching up to bat at floating pieces of silver-lined crystal. They bounced around above her head teasingly, almost like a mobile. Luciana could feel and hear and see and smell and even taste O’ros simple pleasure at Freya’s amusement.

But Luciana had things to do outside of the Vault of Lights that were more important to her than this momentary comfort. She left Freya with Enaeon, because the child fussed when Luciana tried to take her too far from O’ros. She wondered, briefly, if it was really a good idea to let Freya stay so long. She dashed the doubt from her mind, reminded herself that O’ros was a Naaru of all things, and left the child with her Uncle En.

“We’ve got things to do,” Luciana murmured to Enaeon. He didn’t question it, just smiled knowingly and nodded.

“When will you return?” he asked her, voice low and rumbling in Luciana’s ears.

“Soon. Within a few months.” She smirked crookedly. “I’m going to be quite busy, though, so Freya will need to stay with her Uncle En. People might not like that her Mama is going to be someone in a position to be so busy.”

“Ah, I understand,” Enaeon said, ever smiling. “I believe Naemete was in the first level, in the Caregiver’s Center.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you again soon, Enaeon.” Luciana leaned over Freya, still secure in Enaeon’s arms, and smiled softly. She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head, lingered for a few moments to take in her clean scent. “I love you very much, Freya, and I’ll be back soon, okay? You’re gonna get to spend a whole lot of time with Mama.”  
Freya looked at Luciana, and then back to O’ros’ extended fragments. “I will make sure she knows,” Enaeon promised softly.

“Thank you, my friend,” Luciana replied, placing her hand on his upper arm. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have you here with her.”

“I think I do,” he said, offered her an enigmatic smile, and watched for a few moments as she looked up to the Naaru.

“And thank you, O’ros,” Luciana said quietly as Anduin moved to say goodbye to Freya. The ambient hum and chime of the chamber swelled for a moment, and Luciana smiled and laughed softly. “Thank you. I’ll return soon.”

She felt Enaeon’s gaze on her as she left the Vault of Lights, joining hands with Anduin who turned and walked with her. O’ros’ attention was on them, as well, and she didn’t mind it at all. How could she, after what they’d just given her? Given Anduin? A healthy wife, mother, and soon-to-be Queen, who would live for decades longer instead of just two or three more pain-filled years. 

She wasn’t alone anymore, isolated by a layer of magma and roiling fury. She wouldn’t have to watch others find joy in each other anymore – she could learn to make those same connections, no longer wanting an end to it all. She knew the fear wasn’t gone. It still simmered, just under the surface. How could she learn, so late in life, what others learned in their infancy? How could she make the connections that others did when she was the one with the fury of a berserker? Who would want a connection with her, with the danger she posed to everyone around her? 

But she knew she’d manage. With Anduin by her side, she’d manage. With the promise of a Naaru that that offered Absolution whenever she needed it, she could live. With the knowledge that past the blood and violence she was welcome in the Light, she could get past her fear and try to be more human than berserker. She smiled at Anduin when he glanced at her, and he returned it softly - he knew what she was thinking, what her thought process was like, just from watching her. It comforted her to know that she already had a strong bond in place, even before O’ros had reached out to her. That a human could see past her fury before a Naaru gave her hope.

Naemete was indeed on the uppermost level of the Exodar, sitting peacefully outside the inn with a steaming mug of tea in her hands. When she spotted Luciana and Anduin coming up the ramp, she smiled brilliantly and stood, offering them a bow.

“How did it go?” she asked. “Will the young Princess be returning with us?”

“No, the plans have changed,” Luciana said. “Freya will remain here in the Exodar. We’ll be returning to Stormwind today, and when things have settled a bit I’ll be coming back here with Amadeus Squadron.”

“Permanently?” Naemete asked. At Luciana nod she laughed and happily clapped her hands together. “Wonderful, this is wonderful news! I have so much to show you here!”

“We’ll have plenty of time,” Luciana promised with a slow smile. “For now, though, we need to return to Stormwind.”

“Of course!” Naemete smiled, hurriedly taking a few more sips of her tea before putting it down and placing a few copper coins on the table next to it. Not a minute later a shimmering portal opened to reveal the interior of Stormwind’s mage tower, in the heart of the Mage’s Sanctum, and Luciana was the first to step through.

She shook off the brief disorientation and stepped aside. Anduin came through the portal a moment later, and she gently pulled him by the elbow so that Naemete could come through without stumbling into him. He gave her a smile to thank her, straightening from his own fleeting dizziness.

Luciana had gotten used to travelling unaccompanied and unmolested through the city. Her leisurely walk with Anduin, Naemete taking up a comfortable position to their six, would probably be the last time it would happen for a very long time. Guards still greeted them with sharp salutes and cries of “Your Highnesses!” when they passed, but otherwise it was peaceful. For once, Luciana could enjoy it.

They stopped for lunch in the Blue Recluse, which Luciana knew wouldn’t be as crowded as The Gilded Rose in the Trade District. She wasn’t looking forward to being mobbed there like a Royal usually would be.

She said as much to Anduin, who offered an enigmatic smile and reached into his pocket. He pulled out two simple rings, and presented one to Luciana.

“Illusionary?” she asked, and smirked. “Should’ve known you’d be the one to carry these around. What _do_ you get into when I’m not there?”

“All sorts of mischief,” he said with a wink. “Go ahead and try it on. Let’s see how it looks.”

“Randomized?”

“Yes, of course.”

She slipped the ring on and the air around her wavered for a moment. When it stilled, she looked down. She looked like an average citizen, perhaps a farmer visiting the city in simple peasant’s clothes. The knees of her pants had dirt stains and her boots were worn and old. She grinned. “Perfect,” she said. “Naemete can walk apart from us. I don’t think anyone will bother her if she’s just a lone mage. And what about you, dear husband?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. The right one pulled a bit at the outer corner because of her old temple scar, but the effect was the same.

Anduin slipped on his ring without another word and Luciana blinked a few times to rid herself of the afterimages of the magic. It seemed like it shuffled through a few options before settling on one, leaving Anduin looking like an elderly Northshire cleric. Luciana chuckled, leaning back in her chair.

“Perfect,” she said. “A peasant and an old cleric. No one will look twice at us.” She looked up, hearing the serving boy’s voice as he made his rounds, and removed her ring. Anduin copied her, tucking it away in his pocket for later.

“We can put them on outside behind some bushes,” he muttered. She picked it up easily despite the noise of the inn.

“I’ll send Naemete ahead to let the Seneschal know we’re returning, then,” Luciana murmured. Seeing the mage start to get out of her chair, Luciana reached out and gently pulled her back down into her seat. Naemete offered her a sheepish smile. “Not yet, Nae. Finish eating first.”

“Sorry,” she said, ducking her head slightly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luciana said laughingly.

With the illusions in place no one looked twice at them, except when they saw that they were holding hands. Luciana imagined that they might have assumed they were father and daughter, judging by the apparent age of their illusive covers.

Still, they had to remove the illusions when they reached the base of the Keep. Luciana glanced around, waited until she felt no eyes on her, and tugged the ring off her finger. Anduin quickly did the same, holding his hand out for her to deposit the runed jewelry.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m keeping this one. You get into enough trouble as it is.”

Anduin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Luciana could see his tell - the slight quick at the corners of his mouth. He was just pretending to be offended. She smiled and pulled him flush to her side with an arm around his waist, leaned down and kissed his mouth firmly. “Lucy!” he sputtered. “Really? Right in the middle of the street?”

“Why not? Are some people still not aware that we’re married, with children?” she asked. “I think it’s pretty obvious by this point that we’ve been bumping uglies for a while now. A kiss is nothing.”

“Oh, my Light,” he grumbled, his ears reddening. Luciana grinned and kissed him again, softly this time, before leaving him be for a short while so his blush could calm down a bit. However, she didn’t move her arm from his waist, even going so far as settling her hand on his hip. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

Naemete was waiting outside the Keep, along with Lawrence and Chris. “Welcome back, Luce,” Chris greeted, holding out his arm. Luciana clasped it firmly, hand around his wrist, and smiled.

“Enjoy your vacation?” she asked.

“Short as it was, yeah,” he replied, stepping back and to the side. Lawrence copied him, opening up the entrance to the castle, and they fell in behind her and Anduin as they passed.

“The Seneschal is aware that you’ve returned,” Naemete said as they walked slowly up the sloping hall. “There is a court meeting for the Prince to be attended at his leisure, and a courier from Westbrook awaiting your attention, Luciana.”

“Anything else?”

“A number of things,” Naemete replied. “But none of them urgent. The Seneschal has a clipboard that is very full.”

“Of course,” Luciana sighed. “Can’t catch a break, can we?”

“Course not,” Chris piped up. “Like Lars says, ain’t no rest for the wicked. And you, Princess, can be very wicked.”

“Shut up,” Luciana shot back over her shoulder.

“It’s true!”

She rolled her eyes, but let a fond smile occupy her face for a moment anyway.

Anduin asked after Varian, but he was currently occupied, and so instead they went to find the Seneschal. Luciana took a list of things waiting for her from his hands, gave Anduin a final kiss, and they separated to attend to the different domains they occupied in the leadership of the kingdom. Luciana could easily host court meetings, and she had no doubt that Anduin knew more than enough from years of experience and he could handle Westbrook and Militia name badges, but the separation of duties made it easy for people to find someone to take care of any issues that arose. From a City Guard to an actual Royal heir, someone could easily track down a solution for any problem by looking at what each ranked official tended towards.

It could get a bit tedious, and sometimes they swapped places to mix things up and keep people from getting complacent. Preparing to deal with Luciana the warrior and getting Anduin the priest would certainly throw anyone off. The reverse was quite the same. They were very different in their approaches, Anduin preferring to negotiate and make sure everyone was pleased with the outcome while Luciana didn’t care about other people’s opinions once a solution was found, bulldozing through objections and simply getting the job done. Not to say that Anduin couldn’t do the same, or that Luciana was incapable of employing a gentler touch. They simply each had their strengths, and played off them expertly.

It didn’t mean that Luciana always enjoyed her duties. Today, she was lucky. She had a personal interest in seeing Westbrook Garrison continue to thrive. Any Imperial Army garrison was of personal interest to her. It was the culture she’d been raised in, the life she’d lived for years, and many of the habits and codes that it had instilled in her would last until her death. Her battle fatigue would also last that long, but she had Anduin’s support and it was a bit easier to deal with each time she had a flashback or a dissociative episode.

She also checked in on the progress her Battlemasters had made in Ashenvale and the surrounding areas. She stopped by the Veteran’s Service Center that Varian had set up in the Keep’s Military Wing while she’d been presumed dead, chained up and tortured in the desert.


	31. VetCen

There was a support meeting in progress when she reached the Service Center, and not wanting to interrupt it she silently slipped in, not fully shutting the door so it wouldn’t click loudly. Luciana took up a sentry’s position against the far wall, leaning back and crossing her arms. She received a few curious looks, but she ignored them, concentrating instead on the woman who was shakily recounting a tale from her service in Northrend years ago. She stuttered, took a sip of water from her cup, and plowed on despite the obvious anxiety she was feeling. She pointed to her eyepatch, covering where her right eye would have been, and told the assembled group that it was missing - a Nerubian had taken it right out, and would have pierced her brain if her squad mate hadn’t pulled her back in time.

The Veteran’s Service Center was managed by an old Sea Wolf named Alexei Gandros. When the woman seemed to be finished speaking of her experiences, Alexei waited, and when she nodded her head and stepped away from the podium he spoke.

“Thank you for sharing, Maria,” he said.

“Thank you,” was echoed disjointedly through the room.

“We’re nearly through for today,” Alexei said, getting stiffly to his feet. His left leg was a prosthetic with a titanium shell, light enough for him to walk almost normally but still a bit awkwardly. “But, we’ve got time for one more person. Anyone else got something to share with the group? I’ll remind you, it doesn’t have to be today. Don’t even have to be this year.”

Luciana glanced from person to person. She recognized a few of them from the First Legion. There was a murmur going around the room, but no one spoke up. A thrill of nerves went through her gut, perhaps only the third or fourth time she’d ever felt it, and she pushed off the wall and uncrossed her arms.

“I will, if you don’t mind,” she said loudly.

The murmuring ceased immediately and every single head in the room turned to her. Alexei looked her up and down, inspecting her, and nodded. “Certainly, Princess. It goes a soul good to share these things.”

He gestured her to the podium. When she reached it, he offered her a tall glass of water. She accepted it with a grateful nod, took a slight sip, and put it down. She wouldn’t drink from it again, but she’d shown her willingness to trust him and through him the Veteran’s Service Center.

Luciana looked around the room for a few seconds, debating what she wanted to share. She thought about telling them of the night she lost her scout, and then decided otherwise.

“You all likely know I was taken and tortured,” she started, speaking plainly. She was not a Princess speaking to her subjects, not really. She was a veteran, speaking to other veterans. She received a round of nods.

“Heard you was dead,” someone said from the rear of the group.

“Most thought I was,” she said. “I was in the Barrens with my squadron. They were not two hundred yards away, well within earshot - my scout at the time was a worgen, who could hear with ease if I called out. I was with some local hunters, discussing plans, when I felt a tingle of magic. On the back of my neck,” she said, and a few people nodded or murmured agreements. Magic usually felt about the same to most non-users. The regular layman wasn’t sensitive enough for much else beyond the absolutely basic sense of static energy in the air, or perhaps the sudden snap of cold or heat from an elemental mage or the discomfort of fel. “I called out for my squadron, but they couldn’t hear me. Someone, a shaman I think, had used their magic to affect the air around us. No sound waves could pass through. There was a brief and bloody fight. I killed several of them, orcs, but the hunters fell. I was outnumbered, and had no way to contend with the shaman. They knocked me out with a blow to the head. I woke up with my arms up above my head, chained to the ceiling.” She paused.

“Don’t have to share everything if you don’t want,” Alexei said quietly from his seat near the podium. She nodded to him, and continued.

“They tried poison, first,” she said. “Felt like fire, and ants under my skin, and electricity burning me. That didn’t work, so they whipped me.”

“Like a dog,” she heard a man’s gravelly voice spit angrily.

“My back, my legs, and my front,” she said slowly. “I still bear the scars. They left... the flesh that fell from me on the floor below me. It stank,” she stated simply. “They healed me enough to keep me alive, and let me suffer the rest of it.”

“Fucking Horde,” she heard. She pretended to not hear it.

“I overheard some of what they said,” she told the group. “I’m not truly fluent in orcish, but I know more than enough to understand it. They wanted information on Ashenvale, for the lumber. They made it all too clear that they were with the Horde. Perhaps too clear. We still don’t know if it was true.” She smiled, and it was not a happy smile. “They were going to send my body home with my armour and accoutrements on the back of a pack animal. My stuff, they said. Not to take. They planned ahead a bit too far.

“The whippings hurt, and I screamed it out. But it didn’t work like they’d wanted, and they brought in an illusionist. They showed me my husband, being whipped like I was and crying out in pain, and then the King, bleeding to death and poisoned, begging me not to speak. That... nearly broke me,” she admitted softly. “I would not stand to see Anduin in pain. It hurt me more than anything.

“The one I could only assume was in charge asked me questions. I knew logically that they were illusions, that no force could take both the King and the Prince from Stormwind, but I was too weak to realize it fully. I told the orc half-truths, old numbers, and fabrications, and I bought time. He left, and by the time he returned...” she trailed off. “I worked myself into a frenzy.”

“A warrior’s fury,” Alexei supplied when she fell silent.

“Yes. But even more than that, a berserker’s fury,” she said. “And I did. I berserked, killed everyone I saw in that wretched place, and I got out. I still had enough sense to clothe myself, to protect myself from the sun, and to take this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out her wedding band. “This made me turn back long enough to get what I needed. And then, I walked. I don’t know how I walked, I don’t know how long or how far or how I stayed alive long enough to reach Ashenvale. But I did, and a flightmaster’s hippogryph found me. I asked for help, I asked it to take me to Teldrassil, to Darnassus. It flew me to the great tree, to the Temple of the Moon, where Elune’s priestesses found me.

“Malfurion healed me,” she said shortly. She didn’t want to give them the intimate details. Those belonged to her, and always would, and she would only truly let Varian and Anduin have them. And perhaps one day, if there was cause, she’d tell her children. “He saved my life. I would have died, after it all, to my wounds and my weakened state. He made it possible for me to return home with a fellow warrior at my six, and he made it possible for my ruined body to have children. Three beautiful children,” she said, smiling softly. “He brought me back from the brink of death, and delivered me home. I will never forget that.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Alexei said, and the group echoed him.

“Thank you.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Thanks.”

Luciana smiled lopsidedly, and bowed her head a moment in thanks. “One more thing, I think,” she said.

“What’s that?” Alexei asked, already on his feet to end the meeting.

“You may have heard some rumours about me,” she said. “About what kept me moving in the desert. Well, I can assure you that some of the more outlandish ones are false. It was not an Old God,” she laughed, “nor was it Damran, or the sha. It was not a spirit that possessed me, either.”

“What was it?” the woman with the eyepatch called out curiously, and then her eye widened in shock at her own boldness and she shrank down a bit.

Luciana smiled at her reassuringly, as best she could with the scars in her face. “The ghost of the wild,” she said simply, knowing at least some of them would understand. The integration program’s hadn’t been for nothing. At least some of them would have heard of Goldrinn from their night elven allies. “Thank you all for listening. I’m pleased this Center has taken off so well since its conception. It seems to do well by you all, and for that I’m glad. I’ll make sure it continues to do so. We go to war for our people and our allies, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have anything after.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Alexei said, and she nodded at him before stepping down from the podium.

He took her place and she heard him concluding the day’s meeting, and slipped out of the room before anyone could get up to try and catch her. She’d said her piece, let the people inside feel they could relate to her, and reminded them that she too had been a soldier in a warzone and had suffered accordingly. Perhaps more so than most others because of her additional status as a Royal.

Luciana had spoken true to them. She’d keep an eye on the Veteran's Service Center, help it grow and make sure it could offer the services her veterans needed to adjust to civilian life. She could connect them to the Cathedral, round up volunteer shadow priests who could help the soldiers undo certain things or regulate their thoughts and memories. Hopefully the Cathedral’s research into battle fatigue and hyper vigilance could really kick off when they had willing subjects to inspect and work with.

Her smile fell when she was out of sight, hidden in the shadows of the throne room. Genn was there near the throne, speaking with a handful of his own advisors. He probably smelled her, knew she was there. She’d speak to him later perhaps, or tomorrow if she lacked the time for it today. She wasn’t feeling particularly friendly, and she knew she’d snap the neck of the next person to talk to her.

Luciana continued through the back of the circular throne room, opening one of the great doors that would lead her eventually to the private wing of the Keep, and pulled it shut behind her. The guards didn’t bother her, nor did either of the two SI:7 she came across on her way to her quarters.

There was a scent of warm spices in the air wafting up from the kitchens. Luciana raised her nose into the air and inhaled deeply. They were the kind of spices that would light a fire in your belly and warm you up on cold nights. A slight, humourless smile quirked up the left corner of her mouth.

She decided to go and visit Wrathion.


	32. "...a black dragon in my court..."

The black dragon would hear her coming. Luciana didn’t make any attempt at hiding her approach. As she walked down the hall to his chambers, the guards ever present in her peripheral, she deliberated ways to kill him. Strangle him? Bite his throat out? Put her hands on his waist and squeeze until her palms touched? That was a fun one, and it had been a while since she’d had opportunity to do it.

She slowed to a halt in front of his door. She could hear squealing from inside, a child’s voice. Two children. Three, she corrected herself, hearing the third heartbeat during a break in the murmuring of voices.

She opened the door to the antechamber, closed it quietly, and stood before the door to the bedroom to listen. Alaric and Bolvar were both inside, though Bolvar wasn’t making any noise - but, she reasoned, his heartbeat was normal, as were the other two. He wasn’t in danger and he wasn’t hurt. The third she guessed was Liam, Tess’ son named for her deceased brother.

Alaric squealed in delight and Luciana opened the door. She saw Bolvar turn first, and smile broadly. “Mama!” he cried, rolling over and then getting to his feet to stumble-run over to her.

She crouched down to grab under his arms and swing him up into the air. “Hello, Bolvar!” she crowed. “How’s my baby doing?”

“I’m doing good, Mama!” he replied, bracing his hands on her shoulders. He was still so tiny, not quite four years old, but he didn’t seem to realize it and explored his world fearlessly. “Uncle Marcellus was telling us a story.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, slowly making her way to where Alaric and Liam both waited comfortably on what appeared to be a piled up knit blanket. Alaric was holding onto his feet, a bit hunched over, and little Liam was lying on his stomach. “What kind of story?”

“A story ‘bout dragons!”

“Dragons?” she asked. “I didn’t know Marcellus knew about dragons.”

“He knows a lot, a lot, a lotta stuff,” Alaric piped up. He watched keenly as Luciana sat behind the bundled up blanket they were using as a couch. She let Bolvar crawl out of her lap to return to his place between the other two boys, and crossed her legs to settle in. 

“You don’t mind if I listen, too?” she asked the disguised Wrathion with a flash of a dangerous smile.

“Of course not, dear cousin,” he said, returning it with a smirk of his own. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Ysera, the Dreamer, leader of the green dragons and Aspect of Nature...”

Wrathion had a compelling storytelling voice, and Luciana smiled when the children got caught up in it with wide, bright eyes. She laughed along at appropriate parts, let the boys have their fun and made sure they were alright, and when Wrathion was finished his tale she sent them off.

“Why don’t you go and see if Tess has a story for you?” she suggested. “I know she and Lorna have gotten into all sorts of trouble.”

“Go an’ see my Mama!” Liam said instantly, struggling to his feet. “Come! Bobo, come on!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Bolvar said, indignantly wrenching his hand out of his friend’s grip so he could get up.

“But, Uncle Marcellus was gonna tell us about...!” Alaric protested. Or, he tried to. Bolvar reached down and grabbed his hand, and they were off hurtling through the hallway. A guard poked her head in, grinning, to check on the people left behind.

“Kids, huh?” Luciana sighed.

“I’ve got six nieces, Your Highness,” the guard laughed. “I know exactly what they’re like.”

“All from the same herd?” Luciana asked.

“No, two different sets,” the guard replied. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks,” Luciana smiled. “We’ll be alright.”

“Your Highness,” the guard said, and shut the door firmly. Luciana heard the antechamber door also close, and the room was silent for a brief moment.

Luciana turned to Wrathion, who smiled uneasily. “I didn’t say a word,” he said smoothly. “Like I said. I wouldn’t lie to you, dear Princess.”

“I’d know if you did,” she said.

“Exactly why I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But you’d lie to others.”

“You’d kill me for it.”

“I’m tempted to kill you now.”

“Why is that?” he asked, leaning back and spreading his arms out to either side. “Have I done something to displease you? I’ve been entertaining your sons and their friend, making sure they’re hale and hearty while you were away. I’ve kept my eyes and ears on the court, steered them away from bringing you suggestions that would be potentially disastrous to their health. What could I have possibly done to earn your ire?”

“Anduin found out,” she said. “And I have no doubt you were involved.” Heat flashed in her eyes, and her nose crinkled in the warning sign of a snarl. “Don’t try to hide it from me, Wrathion. I don’t like to be toyed with on a good day. I may play along or allow it to happen, but never doubt for a moment that I can clearly see every string being pulled. And I will pull back.”

Wrathion eyed her, considered her fully before responding. “I haven’t done anything,” he said. “If your husband was smart enough to figure it out himself, it’s not my fault you didn’t hide it better.”

In a flash, he was laid flat on the floor with Luciana’s hand around his throat, her knee in his stomach. She bared her teeth and growled. “What did I just say?”

She wasn’t squeezing his neck, not yet. She was warning him of the impending violence she’d enjoy visiting on him.

“I asked Varian about his life as a warrior,” Wrathion said quickly. Luciana’s nose flared - he wasn’t afraid yet, though his heartbeat had kicked up a notch and his pupils had widened slightly. “Which prompted him to think on your earlier words with him, which I assumed - correctly, I might add! - were along the lines of what you told me. He spoke to his son about it, a letter I believe, which had the thought in Anduin’s head that not all was well with his father, a warrior.”

“Which would have him wondering about me,” she sighed, leaning back and falling back to her seat on the floor. She quickly returned to her previous, easier state. Wrathion was a bit frazzled, but it was as though nothing had happened when he sat up and straightened his tunic.

“It’s hardly my fault,” he sniffed. “And I do not appreciate you strangling me every time you see me!”

“You make it hard not to,” she growled.

“So, you told him?” Wrathion said, ignoring her words. “What happened? Did he promise to help you? He probably did. He’s really quite an idealist.”

“He made me go see a Naaru,” she grumbled.

“Oh? The one in the Exodar? O’ros, I believe.” Wrathion’s eyes glinted. “What was that like? Is it true they speak to you through the mind? Was it an invasion of privacy, or did they invite you to speak with them before initiating contact?”

“I heard their voice like I hear yours,” she said. “Except yours is exceptionally annoying and grating, while theirs is soothing. You should work on that.”

“It would help if my throat wasn’t raw from being strangled so often.” He smiled sharply. “Ah. Anyway. What was it like? They spoke to you, obviously, but about what? Did they reveal some great secret of warriors past that allowed them to live full, proper, and prosperous lives?”

“They did something,” she said. “Anduin could explain it better. I’m just a warrior, I don’t understand all of this magic crap. Well, I understand the theory of it,” she said. “But I’m not a wielder.”

“Of course,” Wrathion hummed. “What did they do, though? Did they heal you?” he asked. “Cleanse? Purify? Shield? Develop one of your chakras?”

“No.” Luciana shook her head. “They did what Anduin does, but more... intense. He called it an Absolution, what he did. I’m not sure it’s the same thing from a Naaru.”

Wrathion blinked, once. “What’s an Absolution?” he asked.

Luciana groaned, and stood. “I’m done talking to you,” she sighed. “You always exhaust me. Being around you is exhausting. Are you sapping me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, lithely getting to his feet after her. “I’m a dragon. I have no need to sap you.”

“Were you hoping I’d go easy on you because my kids like you?”

“Maybe.”

“You do realize that I could kill you and take your ring and give it to someone else.”

“They’d have to be a very good actor.”

“SI:7,” she said simply.

“And they’d have to know about dragons.”

“Professor. Or an actual red dragon. I’m sure I could find one who would be willing to talk to some Royal children for a couple days a month.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do. Princess, remember? All I have to do is find an adventurer with a red dragon partner and ask them if the dragon is interested in babysitting in exchange for the Princess’ attention. Or a green, who might be interested in Goldrinn’s scion or her daughter’s unique birth, or a blue who wants to research future sight.”

Wrathion pursed his lips for a moment. “Well, I can’t fault you that,” he admitted. “But no dragon is quite like me.”

“No one is. You’re fucking weird.”

“Bless you,” he said primly, as though she’d coughed.

“Get over yourself,” she sighed. “You’re still a kid, for Light’s sake.”

“I will have you know that I am twelve years old.”

“A kid. Not even a teenager.”

“In dragon years,” he stressed. “I am already a grown drake with fully developed powers. Dragons age much more quickly than humans,” he reminded her.

“But you’ve still only got twelve years of experience in life,” she said. “That’s not enough.”

“And twenty-eight is?”

“Did I say it was?” she retorted. “You have a very limited worldview, Wrathion. I’ve been everywhere, spoken to all sorts of people, made friends in all sorts of places. I have a much wider frame of reference than you do and I still know next to nothing about the world.” She sighed, and turned towards the door. “I don’t want to think about this right now.”

“Are you going to go and see Varian?” Wrathion asked. From what Anduin had told her, Luciana knew it was unusual for Wrathion to let anything go, especially something that threw doubt over his abilities. She’d have to take the time to consider his odd behaviour. Tomorrow, perhaps, when she wasn’t so irate. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked towards the door.

“I don’t know why you’d be interested in my day to day,” she said.

“He’s sick,” Wrathion said, standing still in the center of the room. The blanket lay forgotten on the floor.

“Where?”

“Everywhere. He’s sick, like you were. But he’s older. It’s dug in deeper. Whatever you did, you should have him do it.”

“The King can’t leave the city so easily right now.”

“He won’t be King forever.”

Luciana lay her hand on the door handle, and half-turned to watch Wrathion. Silently, she turned the handle, and left. She felt Wrathion’s gaze on her back even after she shut the door behind her. She felt it still while she walked down the hall, through a wraparound, through the gates to the Royal Wing, and down its halls to Varian’s quarters.


	33. Bobo

It was late enough to be morning when Luciana left Varian’s chambers. Wrathion hadn’t lied. Varian was sick, in his heart and mind and soul. Luciana had described her encounter with a Naaru in halting words, unable to properly express the feelings it’d left in her but somehow getting it across anyway - that even warriors, sadistic and brutal with war in their hearts, could find solace in the Light.

“It’s taking some work,” Luciana had said. “I don’t feel wonderful all the time, or anything. But...”

“But you have proof,” Varian replied softly.

“Yes. O’ros promised me that I would always be welcome in the Light. They saw everything, Varian. Everything in my heart and my mind, they saw it, and they still welcomed me. Approved of me.” She smiled slowly. “And that... I think it’s made everything easier. It’s still early, and I don’t think O’ros would just wipe out everything that’s difficult to deal with. But, there’s a promise that at the end of it I’ll be brought into the Light like everyone else, with everyone else. So even if I have a hard time working through some things...” she trailed off.

“Some things like your fear of loss? Of being rejected?”

Luciana’s smile was tight and pained. “Yes. Exactly. I still have it, the Naaru didn’t just take out that part of me, but it’s easier to look at it and try to work through it now that I know that even with my fury, I’m still welcome.”

“I see,” Varian said. “And you think that the Naaru would do the same for me.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t.”

“I didn’t, either,” she said. “And it wasn’t more than a month prior that I willingly let myself berserk, nearly attacked and killed Jillian, and cut off Victoria’s legs and left her for dead. And enjoyed it, every living being I tore into pieces,” she added. “You can’t go now, but after, you should go to the Exodar. You can see Freya, stay with her for a bit while Anduin and I plan the move for Military Ops to Azuremyst.” She quirked her lips into a smile. “You can take that honeymoon with Audrey, too.”

“We’re not married.”

“You might as well be,” Luciana snorted. “She practically lives here, when she’s actually in the city. What title would you take?”

“Highlord,” he said simply.

“A good choice. It’ll leave you with enough authority to act if something happens and it’s still high enough for you to have some control. And so she’ll be a Lady Professor. She’ll be happy about that, as it’ll let her access all sorts of things she couldn’t see before. She’ll like the Exodar. They’re very scientifically minded there, and the island has a very isolated ecosystem. She’ll enjoy studying it.”

“She’s more interested in social customs.”

“I know,” Luciana said. “But you and I both know she can’t resist anything that’s new to her. They have blue trees, Varian. She’ll want to study them one leaf at a time.”

“Yeah,” Varian sighed, smiling slightly despite himself. “You’re right, Lucy.”

“I always am. And when I’m not, Anduin is.”

“You’d follow him into the Void,” Varian commented.

“Yes.”

He blinked. “We’ll go to the Exodar,” he murmured. “Me and Audrey. I’d love to see Freya again. I think you should have brought her back to Stormwind, but... she’s your child.”

“I was told to trust my light,” Luciana said softly. “I was told that Freya’s developing Light would need a strong support, else it might disappear forever. You can’t get much better than a Naaru.”

“What about two Naaru?” Varian teased. 

Luciana gave him a smile for his efforts and stood from her chair. “It’s getting late,” she said. “I’ll let Audrey get you into bed. Not that she would find it very hard.” She smirked.

“You are completely inappropriate.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

“No, you’re not,” he grinned. She leaned down and kissed his temple, and he raised his hand for a moment, gently brushing it against her arm. “Good night, Lucy.”

“Good night, Father,” she responded.

Anduin wasn’t yet asleep when Luciana silently shut the door behind her. He was in bed, the werelights dimmed to their lowest setting, a small fire crackling in the hearth behind glass and iron gates. Shauna was curled up at the foot of the bed, snoring softly.

Luciana heard Anduin shift and stretch. It caught his breath in his chest for a moment and it was released in a rushed sigh. “Hello,” Anduin greeted quietly, smiling loosely.

“Hey there,” Luciana replied. She quickly stripped on her way to the bathroom, quickly wiped herself free of sweat with a damp cloth, and brushed her hair out. She’d shower tomorrow, when it wasn’t an hour past midnight and Anduin wasn’t waiting for her, heavy-eyed and soft, in the bed.

He pulled back the covers for her, opened his arms so that she could slip into bed and straight to him. “Hello,” he said again, and she cupped his face and kissed him.

“Sleep, my light,” Luciana murmured, brushing her thumb over her cheekbone.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered. Sleepiness slurred his voice, but it made Luciana smile all the same. “My warrior-queen. Beautiful and savage.”

“I’m not Queen yet,” she reminded him gently.

“You’ve always been a Queen, Lucy. Queens are conquerors.”

She kissed him again. “Go to sleep, husband. We can talk in the morning.”

He gently took her hand in both of his, kissed her knuckle and let it rest on the pillow in front of him. “No, listen,” he mumbled. “Kings rule, I’ll rule the kingdom, but you’ll be like the conquerors, you’ll be the one to enforce the will of the people and bring Light to the farthest places.”

She kissed his lips softly, lingered there and took in his scent. It was made musky with sleepiness. “Sleep,” she murmured. “While you still can. We’re going to be very busy for a very long time.”

“I love you,” he whispered, and then he smiled. “My Queen. My savage warrior-Queen. May all of Azeroth tremble before the might of your maternal instinct.”

She breathed a laugh, touched his cheek and his jaw gently with fingers rough from the sword. “My King,” she replied. “My beautiful, beautiful King. Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

He murmured indistinct noises that might have been words had he any more energy to spare them. She pressed one last kiss to his mouth, firm but not demanding, and tucked her face into the pillow. It had a heady mix of smells on it - the faint aroma of a familiar soap, the distinct fragrance of Anduin’s skin, scents that told her that Bolvar had napped in his parent’s bed recently with Alaric, and layered under that her own scent to which she’d grown accustomed.

Paired with another’s scent, she could recognize its many aspects that did not belong to another: she smelled dark, rocky soil, so like Bolvar’s rocky shores. Petrichor, likely the source of Freya’s crisp, cool nights. Fresh water, from which Alaric’s scent had its edge of new snowfall. And underneath it all lay something wild and dark, not evil but not kind. Something watchful, alert, that did not know mercy or remorse but knew its pack and its territory.

“I love you,” Luciana breathed when Anduin’s eyes were closed. The hearth fire popped and the noise jumped at her for attention. She’d have to add a new log soon. Until then she would watch Anduin breathe, listen to his heartbeat echo against his ribs, and feel for his Light that sometimes flickered along her skin while he slept, like it could not bear to be still with her so near.

Luciana slept lightly, listening to the hearth fire. When it grew quiet, she rose to feed it, careful not to wake Anduin. When Anduin shifted and murmured, eyes flickering in a nightmare’s embrace, she hummed the lullaby he’d sung to their children a thousand times.

There was a passage, made when the twins had reached their second birthday, which connected their bedroom to that of their parents. Enchanted so that the kids wouldn’t have to struggle with the numerous controls, it would open automatically for either of them. It clicked and whirred when used, and just after four o’clock Luciana heard its hinges groan faintly under the weight of its door.

Bolvar had a different way about him than Alaric. They were twins and similar in many things, but Bolvar tended to move at a more measured pace while Alaric might speed up and slow down and then speed up again, unsure of his steps. Luciana heard Bolvar’s even footsteps as he shuffled into the passage, obviously tired. She slipped smoothly from the bed, holding up a hand to tell Shauna silently to stay. She would let Anduin sleep. He needed it more than she did, as she always had too much energy anyway. He would need to drink a pot of coffee just to wake fully.

By the time the second door opened Luciana had already slipped on a pair of shorts. She was only a few steps away when Bolvar, hugging the stone wall, shuffled into the bedroom. “Mama?” he whispered.

“Hey, Bobo,” she murmured, getting down on one knee and gesturing him forward so he could drag himself out of the passage to her. When he was safely in her arms, tucked up against her chest and under her chin, she asked, “What’s the matter? Couldn’t sleep?”

“I had a bad dream,” he said quietly, almost too quietly for Luciana to hear him had she not had the hearing of a predator.

“What about?” she asked.

“I dunno. I didn’t like it, I was scared and I couldn’t stop.”

“Are you still scared?”

“Naw, ‘cause I got you, Mama.”

A proud smile curled her lips. “Mama will always protect you,” she said softly. “No matter what, she will always love you and keep you safe. You and Alaric and Papa and Freya, you’re all safe because Mama would never let anything hurt you. Not even bad dreams.”

“I was really scared,” Bolvar said.

“I bet you were. But Mama’s got you now and you don’t need to be scared when Mama’s here. Do you want to stay here?”

“No, Lala is gonna be alone if I go with you.”

“Then, what if Mama goes with you? Then you and Lala can both have Mama.”

“But then Papa is alone.”

“Papa has Shauna in here with him.”

“Okay.” Bolvar fell silent, turning his head to look into the bedroom. Shauna’s perked ears could be seen in the dim light provided by the hearth fire.

“I’ll come and stay with you and Alaric,” Luciana said softly. She gathered Bolvar up in her arms and carefully hoisted him up. His weight was next to meaningless to her and she carried him easily through the passage, leaving it open behind them. When Anduin woke alone in a few short hours he’d see the open door and know that his wife wasn’t far.

“Lala is asleep-ing,” Bolvar whispered as Luciana moved.

The twins slept in separate beds but it could be hard to keep it that way. They’d often crawl into the other’s bed if there was a storm or if, during their daily nap, there was some kind of training or fighting going on in the courtyard behind the castle. The screams of mock-battle could be frightening to children.

Luciana first checked on Alaric, holding Bolvar with one arm. She reached down and gently brushed a bit of dark blond hair from the older twin’s face, watching his eyelids flutter from his dreams. There was no hint of fear or alarm, no sharp edge to his scent, and she smiled and leaned down to gently kiss his soft cheek.

The bed was just wide enough for all three of them if Luciana slept on her back, her kids snuggled up to her. She set Bolvar down on the other side of the bed and he crawled around, leaving room for Luciana to lift the covers and get in next to Alaric. He murmured and turned over, little fingers grasping weakly at the sheets. The duvet wouldn’t be needed with Luciana there so she folded it over twice so that it wouldn’t go past her knees. She settled in on her back, reaching up to adjust the pillow under her head, and then lifted her arm so that Bolvar could wriggle into the safety of her embrace.

Luciana gently encircled Alaric with her other arm and pulled him closer. He moved easily, not waking fully even when he reached out to grab at her. His hand found purchase against the thick, ropey scars left from the whip all along her stomach and chest, and he pulled himself closer until his head was in the crook of her arm. He fell back into a deep sleep quickly. Bolvar settled in, and soon followed his sibling’s example. Luciana reached down, moving slowly so as not to disturb them. She pulled the sheet back up and tucked it in around them to trap the excess heat her body produced even when asleep.

Their heartbeats were out of sync but to Luciana they were soothing all the same, and she shut her eyes and let them lull her back into a restful state. She wasn’t so far into sleep that she wouldn’t notice if one of them woke, and should there be any trouble she’d be on her feet in a second. But right now, with her children tucked up against her sides, safe and sound, she could rest.


	34. Mama

Anduin woke slowly at first, restful and content in the warm, soft bed that smelled of his wife. And then he woke all at once, too quickly, because while the familiar smell was there its source was not.

He sat up, brushing his loose hair back, and looked around. “Lucy?” he called. There was no response. She would have heard him even from the balcony. He knew that her hearing was at least as sensitive as his Father’s. He slipped out of bed, pulled his housecoat from the back of the armchair as he passed by and shrugged it on.

The passageway was open, and he followed it to the twins’ bedroom. One bed was empty. The other held Luciana’s unmistakable form, chest moving like a slow bellows with a child cradled in each arm against her bare chest.

Anduin smiled and relaxed, content to watch her sleep. He should have known she’d be in here - nothing was more important to her than her children. Even when she was asleep, it was obvious. And even more obvious was how her children felt with her nearby. They were clutched to her sides, hands balled up against her scared chest, fast asleep. Anduin could see, from where he stood, Alaric’s mouth working slightly in a dream. He imagined that they had never felt safer than when their mother was nearby. He knew that held true for him - even his Father, patriarch and protector, had never made him feel as secure as Luciana could.

It made Anduin wonder what kind of kingdom she’d run. She was a hardass and wasn’t always patient with the Nobles of their advisory Parliament Major, but she was a kind woman at heart, loving, and only wanted the best for her people. Her views as a warrior could mean that that wouldn’t align with what Anduin as a priest thought was best, but she’d always listened to him attentively and he didn’t doubt she would work with him.

She wasn’t unreasonable, and would always be willing to discuss things with him. At her core she was a loving person, and it could manifest as violence against those who wanted to harm those under her protection. Whatever she thought necessary, Anduin knew it came from a good place. That would always make it easy to deal with her and her fury, even when she saw immediate violence as the best solution. Sometimes, Anduin knew, it took violence to clear the path for more peaceful and productive things. Perhaps that would be their model - Luciana would pave the way with fury, and Anduin would come in after and wash away the rest of the violence. Like he had in the Temple of the Red Crane.

And, after, she’d turn to him and wait like she had in Duskwood, wait for him to welcome her back. He would, of course, and he’d wipe the blood off her face and let the Light bring her back to him. She’d always return. He’d been afraid once that her fury would one day take her too far for his voice to reach her. That fear still lingered, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it’d been long overtaken. He was confident now in his abilities, more so after having brought her out of a berserk fury once before, and more so still now that O’ros had blessed her, had given her the same Absolution Anduin had given her but more powerful, reaching deeper. He didn’t doubt that it would be easier with every time to bring her back.

Anduin’s gaze refocused on Luciana when she shifted. It wasn’t uncommon for her to move and sigh and mumble in her sleep, because she rarely slept deeply. Perhaps that was part of the problem, part of the reason she was rarely at ease. He watched her, gaze softening when she inhaled deeply and sighed. She’d probably been scenting for her children, making sure they were still nearby and calm. A slow smile curved his lips at the thought.

He left her to rest a little more, showering alone. When food was brought up from the kitchens he directed the servants to lay it out on the wide round table. “Have the twins’ breakfasts brought here, as well,” he said.

“Of course, Your Highness,” a servant said, bowing his head. “Shall we prepare it now?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He watched them leave for a moment, turning around when they were gone. Luciana would like having breakfast with the twins. She wasn’t usually one to verbalize her feelings but Anduin had spent the last nine years reading them and he knew she’d missed the two terribly. Even before they were married, before she'd let him in past her walls, he'd been reading her.

“Lucy,” Anduin said quietly, reaching down to brush his knuckles down her scarred cheek. “Wake up, love.”

She went from asleep to awake in mere seconds. Her eyes opened, flicked from the ceiling to his face, and she smiled lopsidedly. “Good morning,” she murmured.

“Good morning to you,” he replied, an involuntarily grin taking over his face. She was so sweet like this. He wanted to stare at this scene for hours, see his wife laid out with her body protectively caging her children, keeping them warm and safe and content. He wondered where Freya would have been laid out, had she been there. Perhaps on Luciana’s chest, where she could listen to her mother’s breathing. Anduin knew they would all feel safe with their mother because it was the same way she made him feel - safe, loved, warm. “Breakfast’s just arrived in the bedroom. I’m having the boys’ food brought up there, too,” he told her.

“How soon?”

“A few minutes, I think. Not more than ten.”

“Alright.” She untangled herself from the twins, sat up and carefully climbed out of the bed so as not to disturb the still sleeping children. “I’ll go take a shower.” She caught Anduin in her arms, pressing against him and letting her arms slide down to his waist to hold him close. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled again. She showed her affections physically, and it always made his chest feel loose and tight at the same time, made his breath rush through him a little too quickly.

He pressed a kiss to her lips, and it wasn’t enough. He cupped her face and kissed her again, slowly this time, enjoying the taste of her and catching her lower lip for a moment. Her breath was overheated like everything else about her and it warmed him wherever it touched.

Her hands flattened out against his lower back and caressed him. It wasn’t enough for her, it almost never was until he was completely spent in her and she was panting and loose-limbed and wrapped around him protectively. She slipped her hot, scarred hands under his shirt to his bare skin. He arched forward with a breath just shy of a pleased, throaty moan, and slid his hands into her hair, about to kiss her.

“They’ll wake in a moment,” she murmured against his lips, and he groaned a complaint. She kissed him once, too quickly, and stepped back. “Later,” she promised, eyes dark with hunger.

“Oh,” Anduin breathed. “You’re bad.”

“Only as bad as you, my dear heart,” she responded with a smile. 

“And much worse than the bards would have everyone believe.”

“Maybe we should give them a bit more to work with, then.”

“You are terrible.”

“And you love it.”

He acquiesced with a nod and a playful smirk. “I have some ideas,” he said. “Go and take your shower. We’ll talk later.”

“Love you,” she murmured, touching her hand to his neck for only a moment before she turned and disappeared into the passage.

By the time Luciana was out of the shower Anduin had the boys roused and in the bath. They’d wash later, before bedding down for a nap, so in the morning they’d only need a quick rinse to freshen them. It was still a bit of a struggle to keep them from play-fighting in the tub, but he managed with several years of practice already under his belt.

He gathered clothes for them to wear for breakfast, which could sometimes get quite messy. The twins were already almost four years old and wanted to do everything themselves, and he let them dress on their own. He stepped in only when Alaric’s head got caught in the sleeve instead of the neck of his shirt, and he caught Bolvar before he tripped and fell over trying to pull on his pants.

Luciana was patiently waiting at the table. Bolvar immediately rushed up to her and tried to climb into her lap and she laughed and pulled him up. “Hey, you!” she said.

“I’m gonna eat with Mama!” he declared.

“Well, I’m gonna eat with Papa!” Alaric said in response, turning to wrap his arms around Anduin’s leg.

“Alaric, I can’t walk while you’re on my leg,” Anduin said, patiently waiting for his son to release him.

“Up!” Alaric said, and Anduin obediently bent down and picked him up.

“Oof!” he grunted, smiling. “You’re getting heavy.”

“Lala’s fat!”

“Bolvar!” Luciana scolded. “Don’t be mean to your brother.”

“And don’t tease people by calling them fat,” Anduin said. “We don’t call people names and we aren’t mean to them about their bodies.”

“But what if they’re really dumb?” Alaric asked.

“Then you be nice to them because they’re dumb,” Luciana said.

Anduin sat in the chair next to Luciana. The moment he was still Alaric stood up in his lap to reach for a breakfast sausage. “Not yet,” Anduin said, pulling his son back. “What do we do before eating?”

“We see if everyone’s ready to eat,” Alaric answered with a frown and an exaggerated sigh.

“Right. And is everyone ready?”

Alaric looked back at Anduin, and then at Luciana and Bolvar. “Yeah.”

“Okay. We can eat. Use the fork,” Anduin said when Alaric again reached out to grab a sausage with his hand. He harrumphed, but dutifully took the fork from beside Anduin’s plate and stabbed it into a sausage. It took a few tries but he managed.

When the plate was full with random food Alaric settled into Anduin’s lap to eat. Luciana was already feeding Bolvar with a fond smile, but Alaric preferred to feed himself most of the time and wouldn’t let Anduin give him anything. He had to take if off the plate with his own fork.

Breakfast wasn’t too messy. Afterwards Bolvar only needed to change his shirt and Alaric’s face needed a wipe. Anduin went and fetched a new shirt while Luciana cleaned the kids up. By the time the table was cleared by a small group of chuckling servants, the twins were ready to start their day.

“Who’s first today?” Luciana asked. She’d moved her chair away from the table so the twins could gather and balance against her legs. “Is it Nancy, with the alphabet? Or Uncle Kri with Draenic? Maybe you’ve got Miss Arina, with your numbers, or Dwarvish lessons with Graddig?”

“I think we have... we have today Nancy,” Alaric said slowly. “I think.”

“I think so too,” Bolvar agreed.

“Okay, why don’t we go and check?” Luciana said. “You remember where the lesson plan is?”

“I’ll go get it!” Bolvar volunteered, taking off before Alaric’s grasping hands could grab him.

Alaric pouted, but only until Bolvar returned and handed Luciana the lesson plan. It was a small bound packet of papers with names and numbers and dates that the twins were still a bit too young and inexperienced to be able to understand.

Luciana flipped through it to the proper date, and smiled. “You were right, today’s an alphabet morning. But you’ve got someone else in the afternoon.”

“Graddig!” the twins crowed in unison.

“We got Graddig today!” Bolvar said.

“Yes, you do!” Luciana laughed. Everyone in the Keep knew that the twins absolutely adored the gruff old dwarf. Graddig Flintview was sweet on them, too, and let them hang off his back to watch over his shoulder as he showed them how to write the basic Dwarvish runes. He’d taken to them quickly, despite early worries that he’d be too brusque to deal with children.

So far he’d done an excellent job, and he’d quickly picked up that Alaric tended to learn through association while Bolvar was more of an auditory learner. “Gideon will bring you to your lessons today,” she said, pointing out the name of the Prince’s Guard on the lesson plan. “Where should you go to find him?”

“Ask a Royal Guard!” Alaric said brightly.

“Right,” Luciana confirmed. “They’ll always know what to do if you’re lost. But today I think Gideon will be just outside, in the antechamber. He should be there pretty soon.”

“Love you, Mama!” Bolvar said, trying to get up to kiss her. She smiled and leaned down, turning her head so he could kiss her cheek. Alaric copied him.

“Love you too!” he said. The twins raced over to Anduin, who crouched so they could kiss him too. “Love you Papa!” Alaric said first.

“I love you!” Bolvar echoed, kissing Anduin’s cheek and then hurrying after Alaric, who had already rushed ahead.

Anduin straightened and watched them leave the room, almost colliding with Gideon in the antechamber. The Prince’s Guard laughed it off, made sure neither of the twins were hurt, and then looked up and gave Anduin and Luciana a sharp salute. Luciana gave a little wave from her seat at the table, and Anduin smiled and nodded silently in thanks.

Someone pulled the door shut, probably one of the other two Prince’s Guards as they traveled in trios - two to handle the young Princes, and another to handle any trouble that came up or, alternatively, stall said trouble so the other two could escape with the kids. Luciana had implemented it after Lars had pointed out a problem with having one guard, or even only two guards, accompany the Princes: it was hard to run with two kids in your arms, even without armour and a shield strapped to your back.  
Anduin turned to Luciana, and smiled thinly. “Time to get started, hm?” he said.


	35. Aurfaust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive. And this is still going! I've only posted half of what I have written out so far and I'm already planning out the next story, _Adamant._

Luciana sighed and got to her feet, ambling over to Anduin. She didn’t stop until she was about to knock him over, and he laughed and wrapped his arms around her solid form to steady himself. The kids were with their caretakers, so she could take a moment and enjoy Anduin’s company.

“Mm, you smell good,” she hummed, nosing at his neck.

“That tickles,” he complained, squirming.

She sighed again and stilled against him. His Light crept into her slowly, unnoticed until it was nearly completely encasing her from her bones to the edge of her personal space, currently shared with Anduin’s. “What’ve you got today?” she murmured.

“Helping Father plan out the announcement and subsequent feasts,” he answered. “Invitations, and such. You? Military Ops, probably.”

“Yeah. Lotta shit’s gotta be moved over to the Exodar, but that’s why we have mages, right?”

“Right,” Anduin said with a breathy laugh. Luciana nosed at his neck again, and then leaned back to look at his face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, brushing her scars with his fingertips.

“You’ve been saying that a lot,” she said.

“I didn’t say it enough before. I’m making up for it now.”

“I’m not what most would consider beautiful. Horrifyingly mutilated, maybe. Appropriately frightening and brutally defaced - literally - or perhaps disfigured and completely maimed by my time in the desert.”

Anduin sighed, his face falling into a grimace. “You’re not defaced, disfigured, or anything like that,” he said quietly, slowly. He cupped her jaw with his right hand, and used the other to slowly caress her side, up and down, the occasional circle.

“Well, I am,” Luciana replied. “I am heavily scarred and disfigured. You’ve seen me.”

“But you talk about it like it makes you lesser,” Anduin said. “It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter, Luciana.”

“It does, though. It affects how people see me. If I wasn’t scarred, they might not be able to tell at a glance that I’m a warrior, let alone a berserker.”

“The whip scars aren’t from a battle.”

“No. Those ones mark me as a survivor of torture. It puts what’s on the inside on the outside.”

“How do you see them?” Anduin asked. “Because you make it sound like they’ve forever marred you and marked you as ugly or spoiled.”

“I see them as scars,” she said slowly. “Scar tissue is a response in the body meant to reduce the chance of being reinjured to the same severity in that area. I’m covered in scar tissue, so I’m less likely to be hurt quite as badly. It’s useful.” Anduin didn’t respond, but his serious expression and watchful gaze spoke for him. “I look the part,” Luciana said softly. “I’m a berserker, I’m a danger to people around me, and the scars are a warning to that. I... I stand out because of them. People are afraid of me because of them.”

“You don’t like that.”

“I’d rather they be afraid and keep their distance than get close and get hurt.”

“That’s assuming that you’ll hurt everyone who gets close to you. Yet here I am,” Anduin said, expression easing as he gave her a small smile.

“And there went Vic.”

“That’s not the same,” Anduin said, his smile falling. “And you know it isn’t.”

“Knowing isn’t feeling.”

“Then you need to talk to her,” he said. “And listen. And stop telling yourself that you’re a danger. You’re not a time bomb, you’re not going to explode the moment someone touches you. You haven’t yet,” he said, stroking her scarred jaw with his thumb to illustrate.

“I’m not a bomb,” she said softly. “But I’m damaged, and it only takes so much to widen a crack in the foundation. It widens, and the foundation collapses and everything on top of it comes crashing down.”

“You think of yourself that way?” Anduin asked. “You think you’re a damaged foundation, and you can’t be fixed? Only broken further?”

“That’s what the evidence would suggest,” she said with a weak attempt at a smile.

“I think it’s the other way around,” he started. “You are a foundation for a lot of people,” he said. “For me. For the kids. But you’re standing on a very solid foundation, too. Our people hold you up. They inspire you and give you strength. I think you were damaged,” he said. “Often, and sometimes horribly. But you’re still here. You healed,” he said, brushing his thumb over her scars again. “You grew tougher. Where you break you heal over, stronger, and the same area doesn’t break again.”

“Then I’m nearly invincible,” she joked. Anduin smiled briefly.

“Nearly,” he agreed with a laugh. “And where you aren’t, I’m there, and I won’t let you be hurt any more. Are you familiar with the dwarven tradition of _aurfaust_?” he asked.

“Of course. Fixing broken pottery with gold and precious metals,” she replied.

“Every scar is where you were broken,” he said, “and then repaired with something infinitely more precious than what was taken. You are full of gold and Light,” he said. “And I think that you are beautiful. Not despite your scars, but because of them.” He smiled and kissed her jaw, and her grip on his hip tightened for only a moment.

“You’re the only person I know who could look at me and think, beautiful,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Some people will think I’m attractive, certainly, but in a wild, dangerous way. It gives them a thrill. You?” she laughed again. “You’re just weird.”

He smiled. “I must be,” he agreed. “And on the other hand, you’re the only person who will call me beautiful and strong in the same breath.”

“Those things are quite compatible despite people’s general thought that they’re not,” she said. “You’re tougher than I am, and you’re the most beautiful man in the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“I think that’s just you bragging about your beautiful husband,” he teased.

“It might be, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true,” she said, slipping her hand under the waistband of his pants to caress his tailbone, and then wander lower. His smiled tightened a bit and he reached down to grab her hand before it could wander too far.

“Don’t distract me,” he grumbled. “I’m not done yet.”

“I thought we were?”

“We’re not,” he replied, pulling her hand out of his pants. She pouted, but a moment later she let it go, and he spoke again. “You’re not damaged,” he started.

“I am damaged,” she interrupted. “I am heavily damaged. That’s the entire point of my existence as a warrior - to be damaged so others aren’t. And, also, to deal damage so others don’t have to. Which is, incidentally, closely tied to that first thing. Don’t say I’m not damaged, Anduin, because that would be a lie.”

He inhaled slowly, and sighed. “You are damaged,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t in any way speak of your worth. You’re damaged, but you’re not trade goods that can’t be sold because they’re chipped or cracked. You’re a human being that was damaged, healed, damaged, and healed again. You’re not trying to be sold, you’re not damaged goods. You are not your scars,” he stressed. “You are a Princess, my wife, the mother of three wonderful children - the mother of my children,” he said with a soft smile. “You are soon to be Queen of Stormwind, partner to the High King of the Alliance and Commander in Chief of its combined armies and related factions. You are a mother, you are a leader, you are a friend and companion, you are a partner and a wife, you are so many things that I could stand here and lose my voice reciting them all,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you did that just by talking,” she added. “What’s that gnomish expression? Motor mouth.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, and she smiled briefly. “You are so many things. You are scarred, and I understand that it’s a big part of you,” he said. “But your scars are not the sum of your existence. They do not determine your worth, or state the full range of your capabilities. They speak of some of them, but they don’t decide what you are. You do.”

He could see that her words had caught again, like so many times before, in her throat or behind her teeth. Anduin was nothing if not patient, and waited while she wrestled with them, tried to straighten out the jumble in her throat.

“I don’t decide that,” she said finally. “You do.”

“Luciana...”

“No, listen,” she said, and he fell silent and waited. “You decide what I do. What I am. When it was up to me, I couldn’t step back, I couldn’t see everything because I only saw what people reflected back at me. I limited myself to certain roles and then I couldn’t break out of them. You saw what got left behind,” she said. 

“You hid it at first,” he said. “But I think it was hurting you and you just wanted help. I tried,” he said.

“And you succeeded. You are what’s letting me be those other things. I still can’t do it because I learned too early in my life what I couldn’t be and I can’t undo it, not alone. So when I need to be something other than the warrior, other than the breaker or the enforcer, I look to you to remind me of all the other things. The mother,” she said. “The leader. The Queen. The wife. The lover. I have chains on me, some of which I made myself out of fear. I can’t break them on my own. With you, I don’t need to. You have a key ring full of shit and sometimes it takes a bit of sorting through, but you find it. Always,” she said softly. “I let you decide because I know you’ll pick a good one. You decide, and I follow through, and it’s always turned out well.”

“You trust me,” he said quietly.

“With everything. Always.”

He gave her a soft-eyed slow smile. Anduin’s stomach felt light, tightened with emotion so that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. “I trust you,” he said.

“I know.” She smiled, her face not responding fully, but her eyes reflecting it. “Sometimes it absolutely amazes me. But, I know. And I’ll never betray that trust.”

Anduin kissed her and she reached up to hold him close. “I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you so much I wonder sometimes how I can hold it all.” He laughed breathlessly. “You had my children.”

“You’re still on that?” she laughed.

“Yes! I am! You let me impregnate you. On purpose!”

She laughed again and cupped his face to keep him from kissing her again. “Why do you think I did it?” she asked. “Seriously, why?”

“Because you wanted kids.”

“Because you wanted kids,” she corrected. His smile started to fall and she shook her head slowly as she spoke. “No, don’t give me that face. Listen, first. You wanted kids. You wanted a family. I want to make you happy. Now, you of all people should have realized by now that I really like kids. I love kids, but it never occurred to me that I could have little tykes of my own running around. I thought, what with my body type and tendency to berserk, it just wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t have the opportunity or the inclination, so I satisfied myself caring about other people’s kids. And then, I married you, which meant eventually I’d have kids. And when I came back from Teldrassil, my body was in the right state to have them. I wanted to give you a family, and I wanted to have the chance to be a parent. A true parent, not an older sister playing caretaker or a Knight calling her squad her kiddos. What surprised me was that you wanted my kids.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, kissing her despite her hands on his face trying to prevent it. He spoke against her mouth, breath tickling her lips. “You’re wonderful, Luciana. I want nothing more than to spend an eternity with you, because anything less wouldn’t be enough time to learn everything about you and appreciate it enough.”

“You know,” she said, moving her hands to his shoulders and letting him pull her to his chest. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me about this crush you supposedly had on me.”

Anduin’s face reddened and Luciana chuckled, caressing the sides of his neck. “Or maybe I don’t,” he said quickly.

“Maybe you should. The kids will want to know, when they’re a bit older and curious about their parents. I’d like to hear it,” she said honestly, meeting his gaze squarely as his blush evened out at a dusky pink over his dark cheeks and red in his ears. “If you wanted to tell me,” she added, slowly. “If you don’t... You don’t have to,” she said finally.

“No,” he replied softly. “I will. It’s a bit embarrassing to think about it now, but I’d like to tell you.” He smiled. “If nothing else, you can tease me about it and then make up for it with a kiss.”

“Like this one?” she asked, pulling his head down slightly so she could press a kiss to his lips.

“Maybe a better one,” he said. “Like the first one.”

“Oh, you naughty man,” she said lowly. “I don’t think a bit of teasing merits that kind of kiss.”

“I think it does.”

“Why don’t you tell me this story first, and then we can discuss a fair price?”

“Sounds good to me.”


	36. Thoughts of the Young Prince

Father didn’t usually let him sit in on meetings like this one. This was an important one, a big deal to do with unspeakably large amounts of gold and entire yearly harvests. At fifteen, with quite a bit of trouble behind him and trauma no one liked to talk about, Anduin was mature. Despite that he was still a child, still the Prince and not the King, and couldn’t make decisions about this sort of thing. But Father thought it was time he start learning about it, as he would one day be the one to decide the kingdom’s fortunes.

He was the youngest person in the room, but not the only one who hadn’t yet reached the age of majority. There was one other, maybe seventeen or eighteen, who stood with his mother or his aunt, perhaps. No, wait - Anduin recognized them both. Lady Talia Amadeus, of the second branch, and Lady Luciana Amadeus of the first. Lady Luciana had entered the Military Academy and had just graduated as an Officer Cadet, and Lady Talia was a skilled courtier with a long repertoire and quite a reputation.

Anduin made sure to divide his attention between each section of the room equally. No one could ever accuse him of favouritism if he looked at them all the same. But his eyes roved over the others in the room unseeing, his thought occupied with the two women in the corner. More specifically, the young Officer Cadet. It was the second time he’d seen her in Court. The first time, nearly two years ago, he could hardly remember. She looked so different.

For one thing, she was taller and broader. She’d been much shorter, he remembered, though still tall for a child and taller still for a female-born. Her shoulders, he knew, hadn’t been that wide before, nor had she stood in such a way. Her shoulders were down and back, her hands clasped behind her, chin up and legs straight and planted firmly at shoulder-width.

Anduin did not stare at her, but it took conscious effort. She was curious, even more now than before. She was a Knight now, still in training for the position, but she carried the title well and the patches of Officer Cadet decorated her shoulders. The pin gleamed on her breast - no, that wasn’t appropriate. That was the word for that area of the coat, but now he was thinking of her breasts. Which looked, from where he was sitting, quite small, which fit her body type.

 _Inappropriate_ , he scolded himself mentally, eyes roving the room slowly and continuously. No one would pay him much heed now, not when they knew the King would be appearing soon. Anduin was there mostly for appearances, they thought. Well, let them think it. He’d learn all of their tricks when their guards were down.

Luciana was looking at him the next time his gaze landed on her, and he instinctively looked away. He couldn’t look back at her because it would seem as though he was nervous, which wasn’t something he could show. Instead he kept moving through that part of the room, and then when his gaze was close to her again it jumped to her eagerly. She was already looking away, talking to her aunt again.

Anduin took an extra few seconds to look at her. Her thighs were thick with muscle, barely contained by her trousers, and her bottom was round and that area of her pants was taught over her skin, as well. Anduin knew that his ears were probably turning red, but it was hidden by his hair. As long as his face didn’t heat up, he was fine.

Oh, she looked fine in that coat. It pulled at her shoulders and he wondered how strong she was. As strong as a warrior? Wasn’t she a warrior, actually? Anduin kept up with the happenings of all the Noble Houses, and he knew that usually warriors weren’t mentioned much in family gatherings. But the Amadeus first branch had six children in the youngest generation, and each was well cared for. Wouldn’t that mean they’d care for a warrior child? Was she a warrior? He could ask Father, but then he’d have to answer fifty-odd questions in exchange about why he was asking about her...

No, it was better to observe. On his fourth and fifth pass over her, he looked for certain things he knew Father had. Father was a warrior, entrenched in their ways. Wouldn’t she have some of the same things, as a warrior?

Her eyes snapped to stimuli like Father’s did. When someone knocked a cup off the table she snatched it out of the air even though her back had been to it when they’d knocked it. She moved quickly, responded immediately. Warriors did that, but so did rogues and hunters... But she wasn’t built like either of those things. She was too thick with muscle for it.

Anduin felt the blush in his ears and tried to distract himself from thinking of her muscles with something else. Normally a man didn’t think about a woman’s muscles, anyway. He’d overheard discussions about it, about what made women attractive. It didn’t seem right to him to limit things like that, but there had to be some kind of general rule to it. And anyway, wasn’t it usually the man who was muscular? Or maybe that didn’t apply to warriors?

Anduin thought about it, using the question of gendered attractiveness to distract himself from Luciana until Father arrived.  
As always, the moment he entered through the doorway the room fell silent. Anduin was the only one to smile when he appeared. Without thinking about it Anduin looked at Luciana.

She was staring at Father, alert and tense like an uneasy dog. That meant she was a warrior. No one else reacted like that to Father except warriors, and some hunters. But Anduin had already established that she was not built like a hunter. She had too much thick muscle mass for the agility of a hunter.

“Court is now in session,” Father growled, and stood before his seat at the head of the table, with Anduin to his right. 

“Hello, Father,” Anduin whispered nearly silently while everyone sat. He received a glance and a small but genuine smile in return, and he smiled happily. It still needed work, but Father’s expressions were getting better.

Anduin paid close attention when people spoke, presenting their arguments against or for - but mostly against - more funding for military training programs.

When it came time for the Amadeus representative to speak, Lady Luciana stood in Lady Talia’s place. She earned curious murmurs, ranging from severely disapproving to mildly concerned.

She opened her mouth and began to speak, and all of it disappeared.

Luciana spoke with regulated form and even volume, and she displayed an obvious mastery of tone and argumentation. She spoke of the training she’d received and would continue to receive, of the supplies available and how they had aided her in mastering the skills necessary for a Knight to succeed not only in battle but in training their squadron until they were a single unit capable of anything put to them. She spoke of her schooling and education in many subjects, and how without the funding for the schools, for the professors and teachers, for her own housing and supplies, she would not have passed, let along excelled like she had.

She then moved on to speak of the facilities, and then to her fellow graduates, and how many of them had started out directionless, apparently failures. With so many options available to them nearly all had found their paths to success, and with continued funding they would continue on those paths to greatness.

Luciana also explained why the funding had made a difference, and even delved into the social aspects of it, how people from lower rungs of the economic ladder could learn and develop unique and useful skills that could go to serving Stormwind and through Stormwind, the Alliance. In this, they would return the funding given to them early in life tenfold, some even one hundred fold.

“You do not feed your hound once,” Luciana said in conclusion. “You feed it daily, you invest time and effort into its training, and when it is ready you use it to hunt, and it returns to you every day with enough meat to feed your entire family for a week. In a week, you will have enough for two months. In two months, you will have enough for a year. Already, the dog has returned all of your time and effort, and from that one dog you will have ten years of loyal service and companionship. And we dogs of war are not so different,” she quipped, earning a few polite chuckles for her efforts. “Give us our daily meals, teach us and give us the resources to better ourselves, and we will carry Stormwind and her people into the good future.”

Her voice was rich and deep, a thick stream - like molasses, Anduin decided. She was confident and unrushed, but sure and steady. At the end of her piece she turned to Father as had the others and bowed at the shoulder. She sat in her seat, straightened her coat, and fell silent. Her turn was over.

The people after her seemed lackluster in comparison, but still she watched them attentively, listened to them and heard them and reacted to their words and the way they said them. She was obviously clever. Anduin thought she was quite pretty, too. Maybe pretty wasn’t the word for it. She was handsome, he decided, with a proud jawline and a straight nose and a slight slant to her eyes that spoke of an Old Arathi heritage. Amadeus, he knew, came from Arathi originally. Most humans did, as Arathi had been one of the first and final great human kingdoms, but there had been a lot of mixing. Amadeus had kept the solid bone structure and facial features distinct to those noble lines.

With the slightest of twitches Anduin realized the meeting had concluded. People were standing up, moving away from the table, and he smoothly got to his feet and followed Father from the room.

Father led the way to a more private area, and then turned to Anduin. His face was serious, as it usually was. Anduin was learning how to read past that.

“You seemed a bit preoccupied,” Father said simply. “Did you still pick up on anything?”

“Lady Luciana speaks well,” Anduin said. “She’ll grow into a fine Knight.”

“Indeed she will. Her graduating class had a few promising recruits. What else?”

“Lord Grivelda seemed overly concerned with how much funding was going into the mathematics department,” Anduin said. “I don’t think he actually knows anything about military strategy. He might not be the best person to have on the committee.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Father agreed. “What about Lady Marina? She’s just recently moved into the position.”

“I didn’t hear her so much,” Anduin admitted. “She didn’t speak well at all.”

“No, not yet,” Father said. “But she will. She’s holding back until she learns how to destroy people. Then, we’ll see her claws come out. Like a cat,” he said with a humourless smile. “But, come. You were quite taken with the young Amadeus’ speech.”

“Like I said, she spoke well,” Anduin replied, feeling his ears heat up again. “I was... surprised that they had her speak instead of Lady Talia, who I know is quite skilled in courtly matters.”

“She is, but you should never underestimate any Amadeus in the Court,” Father said. “Even an unskilled Amadeus could probably give me a challenge.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Anduin said, but he was unsure.

“I’m not,” Father said simply. “Amadeus are known for it, and for good reason. But that one is a warrior. You can see it in her eyes. You saw the way she looked when I entered?”

“Like a tense hound,” Anduin said.

“Yes. You’ll learn to read fury,” Father said. “She was reading mine. Quite well, by that reaction. Cautious, and watchful, but I wasn’t presenting an active threat and she was aware of that. Still, I’m much stronger than she is, so she watched to make sure I wasn’t becoming aggressive. Very smart, that one.”

Father didn’t speak on it any further, not even when they sat down to a quiet dinner and Father ate enough for three people. It didn’t surprise Anduin anymore. He’d learned already that a warrior had a faster metabolism, and needed more energy to make up for the higher levels of their resting state. That would mean that Lady Luciana, too, would eat more than the regular Knight. He wondered if she’d ever gone hungry in her years of training.

When Father retired for the night Anduin was left alone in his rooms, and his thoughts immediately turned to Luciana. She’d moved so smoothly, assured that she was capable to meet the challenge, whatever it might be. She looked so strong and proud in her uniform. Anduin wondered if she’d looked at him long, or if she’d just glanced at him. Had she stared, wondered at his handsomeness like he had at hers? Had she thought of the curve of his jaw, the lines still firming as he grew out of his teenage awkwardness? Had she thought of what he might look like in a few years, how handsome he’d be?

_“Prince Anduin.”_

_“Lady Luciana! A pleasure to see you again. You spoke well today.”_

_“Thank you, my Prince. You did not speak, but I could tell that you heard more than what was said with mere words. That is quite a talent, Your Highness, and you seem particularly skilled at seeing the truth behind the statement. I have always admired those clever people who are not deceived by pretty words.”_

_“You, too, seem quite clever enough to see past them.”_

_“Ah, but you are a master at it. I can tell by the way you watch the speaker, alert, your eyes sharp. The markings of a skilled courtier, and hunter.”_

_“I do practice archery...”_

_“Do you? I’m sure you display the same skill in archery as you do in all else.”_

_“Oh, you flatter me...”_

_“I only speak the truth, my Prince. Perhaps one day I will see your skills displayed.”_

_“I could, maybe, demonstrate for you. A Knight should know these things.”_

_“A Knight should indeed know many things, but for the Prince himself to teach them? I would not dare to impose on you, Your Highness.”_

_“Oh, it wouldn’t be any trouble. I must practice regularly, you see, to keep up my skills...”_

_“Of course. As with anything else, practice brings mastery. I would be honoured to be allowed to watch you practice, Prince Anduin.”_

_“Then, you may watch. I will be at the archery ranges later today, actually. I shall see you there?”_

_“I would not miss it for the world, my Prince.”_

_“I hope not. Perhaps afterwards, we...”_

No, that wasn’t right.

_“I would not miss it for the world, my Prince. It is an honour to...”_

No, not that either.

_“I shall see you there?”_

_“I would not miss it for the world, my Prince. If it pleases you, I shall do it.”_

_“It would please me greatly to see you there.”_

_“Then there I shall be.”_

_“It would please me greatly to see you at all, truthfully.”_

_“Then you shall see me every day, until you tire of my presence.”_

_“I don’t think I shall.”_

_“Then you shall always see me.”_

_“Then I will be most pleased.”_

_“Is there anything, then, that I can do each day to please you?”_

_“What could a Knight do that would please their Prince?”_

_“Anything their Prince asked of them.”_

_“Perhaps, then, a kiss? For a Knight serving their Prince.”_

_“If my Prince asks it of me...”_

_“He does.”_

That wouldn’t happen. But it was nice to think of it, and Anduin passed several hours thinking of increasingly elaborate scenarios that ended in Lady Luciana kissing him, or praising him, or honouring him, until he was too tired to even think of anything besides lying in bed. And then he imagined her tucking the covers in, he imagined himself sick or perhaps wounded and Lady Luciana taking it upon herself as his Knight to care for him.

It was ridiculous, and unworthy of him as Prince, but he was still a teenager and he quite liked the sight of her. And anyway, he never got to indulge in normal things. It was always angry Fathers and missing Kings and black dragons and undead and apocalypses. It was nice to think of nice things, for once.

\--

_“That is absolutely saccharine,” Luciana commented, and then she gave him a kiss that left him struggling to breathe and reeling against her._

_“What was that for?” he panted._

_“Well, I said I’d kiss you to pay for the story,” she said. “And you said you imagined me kissing you. You’ve been waiting for that one for a while. I might as well make it up to you.”_

_“Then I’ll tell you another and you can give me another kiss like that.”_

_“I like that deal.”_


	37. Planning for the Crown

Luciana let Anduin and Varian do most of the planning for the coronation, which meant that it was much more complex than necessary. She’d then spent hours correcting the schedule to make it more efficient, and then acquiescing each time Anduin protested. Which, judging by Varian’s amusement, had been completely expected.

“And you’re sure you want a double coronation ceremony?” Luciana asked.

“Yes. It’ll show good relations with Gilneas, and it’ll show our allies that we’re moving into a new generation.”

“Yes, that’ll be obvious. Because there’s no way in the fucking Void that any other generation would have allowed another kingdom to take any sort of noteworthy position in their coronation, of all things.” Luciana sighed. “I like Tess, but shit. I don’t think it’s a good idea. It might show that we’re too close, that the two human kingdoms in the Alliance are closer to each other than to any other. That could cause some tension.”

“You could have Enaeon bring Freya,” Anduin suggested.

“No. She needs to stay in the Exodar, remember?”

“She might be able to leave for a few days.”

“Through a portal? She’s too young. And I don’t want her on a ship for a month and a half. What if something happens?”

“Then, we could have Malfurion at a position of honour at your side, and Velen at mine? No,” he said slowly.

“Malfurion should go with Tess,” Luciana said for him. “The Howling Oak is in Darnassus, after all. And Velen can come with us.”

“That would be something,” Anduin agreed. “And for the gnomes and the dwarves? The Tushui?”

“We could put Gnomeregan in charge of planning,” Luciana said. “Let them set everything up. We can trust them with that, like we trusted a dwarven smith with our wedding bands.”

Anduin smiled slowly. “And Ironforge can certainly be trusted with food and beverages.”

Luciana groaned. “You’re going to try and get me drunk again.”

“You’ll need an entire cask of ale all to yourself,” Anduin laughed. “Hm. Maybe we can give that to the Tushui, actually, and let them showcase pandaren cuisine. And the dwarves can... what could they do?” he murmured.

“Gifts,” Luciana supplied. “No one’s more generous than a dwarf, when they want to be. Let them come up with commemorative gifts.”

Anduin’s smile turned into a grin. “That’s a great idea. That’ll let them really show off their creative talents. They’ll be happy about that. But, I thought you didn’t want a double coronation?” he asked. “It sounds like you’re planning for one.”

“I don’t want one, but if we’re going to do it we might as well do it right. If we’re friends with the other peoples, let’s show it. Let’s involve them like we would involve our personal friends, share the moment and all that.”

Anduin laughed, leaned back in his chair and he gazed at her fondly. “Right. I’ll spread word of the plans. And you?” he asked. “How is the move going?”

“Quite well. Most personnel aren’t giving me any trouble, and those that do are moved to a more suitable position. I’ve managed to get a hold of my old Knight Champion, too.”

“Leon Servol?” Anduin asked.

“Yeah. He made it to Lieutenant Commander before getting an honourable discharge. Seems he wanted to retire before he lost his head to a Deathstalker.” She chuckled. “Well, anyway. I contacted him, and he’s willing to tag along as an Advisor. I did warn him I’d be higher ranked than him. He didn’t mind it much.”

“He must be proud of you,” Varian commented. Luciana glanced at him. She’d nearly forgotten he was there. He’d faded into the background to let her and Anduin hash out their ideas.

“He is,” she confirmed. “I was his protégé, his personal project of sorts. He took a chance on me as a berserker and apparently I turned out pretty well. So,” she said, looking at Anduin again. “You’ve discussed it with Tess?”

“Yes. She’s willing to share,” he joked. “She quite liked the idea, actually. She said that Gilneas spent far too much time behind a wall. Now, she has the best chance possible to move past that and show complete solidarity with a long-time ally.”

“I’ll go and see her sometime soon,” Luciana said. “Maybe her husband should take worgen form for the coronation. There are still a lot of anti-worgen sentiments brewing, certainly not aided by the feral menace in Duskwood. I offered allowances for feral worgen in biochanics research but we’re going to have to reinforce the line between them and Gilneans. Having the new King of Gilneas show his worgen form could go a long way towards muting those kinds of issues. How are things in Westfall?” she asked, turning back to Varian. “I’d heard they’d managed to get the storm calmed down a little bit and some of the farmland restored.”

Varian nodded slowly. “Sentinel Hill is going to need some work,” he said. “I could head out on your behalf after things calm down a little. Audrey might enjoy it, too. And Moonbrook has become something of a rebel. The people who still hold onto hate for Stormwind have gathered there in droves, and they won’t let any of the Shadow Watchers or even Helliah’s people inside. They’ve started reinforcing the gates to the mines, too, and they cut down the newly-grown trees nearby to make walls,” he said. “That’s going to be a problem.”

Luciana worked her jaw, cracking it before speaking. “It is,” she said quietly, looking at Anduin. “You know what my solution would be.”

“And you know I wouldn’t like it,” he said. “They’re people,” he continued. “They are citizens of our Kingdom, even if they deny it. They suffered because of the troubles in our court, and it’s our duty as their rulers to fix what damage we allowed to happen.”

“So, envoy?” Luciana suggested. “Or reparations first? Or both.”

“Both,” Anduin confirmed with a nod. “Reparations in gold and supplies, formal apologies from the Royal House for the initial damage, the abandonment, and the long wait.”

“We should send class trainers,” Luciana said. “We don’t want them amassing an army of skilled people and attacking the rest of Westfall, but giving them their own power would certainly help them feel more secure.”

“It’s also a new generation from the one that initially suffered,” Anduin said. “Let’s show them that we’re a new generation, too. And I’m sure that if there was trouble brewing Helliah would step in.”

“Right.” Luciana nodded. “So, reparations, class trainers, apologies and envoys. What else? Not you,” she said, turning to Varian. “You’re not going anywhere near Moonbrook. That’s where all of the troublemakers are and the last thing we need is for you to pay them a friendly visit and bring up every single bad memory of Stormwind they’d ever had. Through no personal fault of your own,” she added, “but they feel about you how you feel about black dragons. And there are several hundred of them, at least.” She blinked and looked at Anduin. “We could send Wrathion.”

“Self-proclaimed Earthwarder?” Anduin said with a slow smile. “Yes, we could.”

“With guards, though. If he’s still being hunted we don’t want to lose him in Westfall, of all places.”

“Is that concern I hear for the... ah, how did you put it?” Anduin asked. “Light-fucked black dragon?”

“He’s useful, I’ll admit that freely. He did do a good job while we were in Duskwood.”

“That he did. But don’t tell him that, he’d never let us forget it.”

“I know,” she groaned. “His head hardly fits through the doors as it is. Still, he is useful, and we could send him to Moonbrook. If nothing else, he’ll be able to change some minds and lessen the aggression.”

“He is a skilled talker, “Anduin said. “Let’s do that, then. He wouldn’t object.”

“Of course not. The farther he is from me, the fewer chances I’ll have to strangle him.”

Anduin laughed. “And he’s nothing if not self-preserving. He likes his neck unbroken, I think.”

Luciana hummed. “And we can send them musical instruments, too. High-quality ones, portable things that can be easily maintained like flutes or hand drums. It might not seem like much, but music was one of the ways that Stormwind redefined itself after the First War. We assume music will always be where we are. It would probably be the same for them.”

“It’s a good idea,” Anduin said thoughtfully. “They could establish their own musical identity and have something all to themselves without putting a wall between them and us.”

“Right. Westfall can be taken care of, then,” Luciana sighed. “Darnassus has sent a few people to Duskwood already for a preliminary assessment. Things are going well, for once.”

“Don’t say that,” Varian warned. “You’ll curse it.”

Luciana laughed. “Let someone try to curse us. I’ll tear them a new asshole and shove my foot so far up their ass they’ll be spitting blackrock for a month.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Varian said with a smile. “I’ll leave you two to your planning, then, and go enjoy my incoming retirement.”

“There’s no such thing as retirement when you’re a Royal, Father,” Anduin said.

“Yeah, but Highlord is going to be a hell of a lot easier than King, especially with the two of you at the helm,” he said, first putting his hand on Luciana’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and then doing the same for Anduin. “And there is the matter of crowns,” he said. “I’ll be handing off the Royal Crown of Stormwind to you two, but you’re going to need your own. I never had one made for me because it wasn’t really seen as necessary, but with a new generation, things change. And it’ll really drive people crazy to see you two wearing matching crowns. The bards will have their hands full,” he chuckled.

“Have them made here,” Luciana said, “not in Ironforge.”

“Of course!” Varian said, mocking offence. “Do you think I’m a complete fool?”

“No, just partly,” she interrupted quickly with a smile.

He gave her a flat look. “Letting Ironforge make crowns for Stormwind. I don’t think so. Have them made here,” he mocked as he turned to leave. “Not in Ironforge. Father, you’re an idiot who despite ruling successfully for nearly thirty years can’t be trusted not to mess up crowns.”

He shut the door behind him, and Luciana turned her amused smile to Anduin. “Just think,” she said. “That’s going to be you in a few decades, with Alaric sitting there and his wife sitting where I am. Well,” she said. “I assume he’ll have a female partner, seeing as he’ll need heirs. Okay, so his partner here and his possible other one there,” she said, gesturing to the empty space at the other side of the table. “We’re going to need more chairs.”

Anduin chuckled, leaning on the arm of his chair to gaze at her with soft eyes and a loving smile. “Can you believe it?” he asked. “Did you ever think you were going to be a Queen?”

She inhaled slowly, and let it out in a sigh. “I didn’t,” she said. “I thought at first that I was going to die in the field. Then I thought hey, I’m going to die soon anyway, they’ll find someone else. And then... I don’t know. It felt like Varian was just going to rule forever. He seemed completely invincible, at first.”

“I can only imagine,” Anduin murmured. 

“And now...” She trailed off, and then smiled loosely at Anduin. “You know, Dania once told me something that made me wonder.”

“What?”

“She said, when we were first engaged, that she saw me in a crown, and it was lovely. I thought it was one of the visions that wouldn’t be true, you know? Now I know better.”

“I wonder if it’ll be the same crown.”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask her.”

“Are you going to have your family sit with us?” Anduin asked. “It is your right, at your coronation.”

“Yeah. I don’t think so,” she said. “Honestly, I haven’t even thought about them much recently. I mean, I’ve spoken with Bann and Des regularly because they’re involved with some of my squad members, but... Ophelia? My parents? I haven’t spoken to them in years. I only spoke with Dania because she came to find me about Freya.”

“Did she?” Anduin asked curiously.

“Yes. She said that I’d live long enough to see Freya return to Stormwind.”

Anduin smiled. “Which means you’re going to be alive for at least another ten years.”

“Right.” Luciana leaned on the arm of her chair, mirroring Anduin. “At the time I thought it meant Freya would be here now.”

“Since you thought you’d be dead in just a few years.” The thought seemed to sober him, but only for a moment. “But now that you’ve spoken to O’ros...”

“Now, we know,” Luciana said softly. “Now I know beyond a shadow of doubt.”

“Do you still feel... doubts?” Anduin asked. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I don’t either, really. Just, bad things in general. Yes, I do,” she said. “But I know that a Naaru approved of me, welcomed me and will welcome me back to the Exodar soon. And if a Naaru can see everything in me and still welcome me, then the Light will too. And that makes it infinitely easier,” she admitted. “And you know what makes it even easier than that?”

“What’s that?” Anduin asked.

She moved quickly, slid out of her chair and stepped around the table to pick him up at the waist and swing him up into the air. She stepped back, whirled him around her head once, and then for another half-turn, and laughed when he finally let out a brief noise of surprise.

“Lucy!” he cried, bracing his hands on her shoulders when she stopped turning. “Put me down!” She could hear a laugh in his voice, and grinned and laughed right back.

She let him down to the floor slowly, bracing his weight against her chest and letting him slide down her front with her arms holding him close. It pulled his shirt out from where he’d tucked it under his belt, made it ride up his stomach, and when his feet were on solid ground again she pulled him into a breathless kiss that reddened his ears and left the taste of his mouth on her tongue.

“You’re terrible,” he breathed with a dazed smile, and then cupped her face and kissed her soundly.


	38. Blue Recluse

Today was one of the last days Luciana would have as a Princess. By next week everyone in the kingdom would know she would soon be Queen, and it would likely take less than a day for that news to spread to the entire world. SI:7 rotations would speed up and the Royal Guards would be doubling and tripling shifts to deal with the increased traffic in the Keep, as well as the increased chances of assassination attempts. They would be especially dangerous, now that there were three young children involved in two different parts of the world. Although Luciana doubted that anyone or anything could get to Freya past Enaeon and Velen and O’ros. And nothing, not even a lieutenant of Sargeras himself, would ever harm the twins past Luciana and Anduin. Still, it was better to be cautious.

So, Luciana had decided that she’d enjoy today. She also hoped that nothing would make her have to renege. She outright hated doing that, even if it was just to herself.

Today was something of a day off for her. It was a break from Military Ops planning. Anduin had had his break a couple of days prior, leaving the festivities to his planners for a day of relaxation and playing with the twins. Today was Luciana’s day, and while she certainly wanted nothing more than to either spend it with her children or with Anduin, she knew there were other duties that needed to be attended to. Namely, the Petitioner’s Chamber.

She dressed in flat, dark colours, as the weather was warming but still chilly. She let Bolvar tie a bracelet he’d made of horsehair with one of his tutors around her wrist, and proudly displayed the hair pin Alaric had painted with a multitude of brightly coloured paints above her right ear, keeping her hair away from the scars on her jaw. She needed to get it trimmed, but it was still at a manageable length for now and she swept it from her mind on her way to the throne room.

She passed Genn on her way out of the Royal Wing, making room for him to pass. He was holding a sleeping Liam delicately in his arms, and slowed just enough to greet Luciana quietly. “He fell asleep in the library listening to Jones,” he explained, his eyes bright with mirth, and Luciana chuckled and let him go.

It was easy these days to pass through the Keep. The stares and the whispers no longer bothered her. She knew that they were not meant as harmful, that most of them were simply idle gossip or silly rumours or wonderment at her. Many of her own people had never seen her up close and nearly all had a burning curiosity about her. The Keep was always full of people hoping to get a good look at her. She let them - there wasn’t any harm in it.

The Petitioner’s Chamber was another story. She was Princess, and they were people who wanted a solution to their problems, and few people were higher up than her. In Stormwind’s laws, there was only one person, and even that wouldn’t last much longer. Still, she acted deaf to those who tried to get her attention, and walked from the entryway to the clerk’s seat at the back of the grand chamber.

There were three clerks on duty today along with several secretaries who were kept quite busy, and were well-paid as a result. Luciana approached the Seneschal first. “Who is nearing the end of their shift?” she murmured.

“Felicia, on the far left,” he replied. “Will you be taking her seat?”

“Yes, send her out early with her full day’s pay and the next one can take over when I feel like leaving. Full day’s pay, as well.”

“Your Highness.” He nodded once. “There is a matter, if you have a moment?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“There is a small group of death knights who have been waiting for an audience for several weeks now. I have told them I would present their case at the first opportunity so that they did not have to wait here and unsettle the... other citizens,” he said.

“Bring me whatever you have for them while I’m here, and I’ll take a look after I leave.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said with a bow of his head. “It won’t be long.”

He went to Felicia to let her know she was being relieved early and the woman left with an expression of mild relief. Luciana took her place and the murmurings that ran underneath the regular talk of the Chamber exploded.

With Luciana’s nod, the Guards behind her stood at attention and one came forward to act as an enforcer, as they did with the other clerks. “Desk three is open,” the Royal Guard called, motioning a tough looking middle-aged lady forward.

“Someone poisoned one of her herding dogs,” a secretary told Luciana, leaning over to mutter in her ear. He rifled through the papers on his clipboard. “And two ewes. She believes it’s her sister in law.”

Luciana spent several hours going through the petitions available. Some were easy to solve, such as the little boy who really wanted a dog but his father didn’t want to have to house-train one. She gave him a written recommendation for a boxer terrier from the Amadeus stables, and when he learned it was the same dog as hers, from the same stables, he was ecstatic. Others, such as the man who’d lost an eye to a mugger, were a bit more difficult. She passed it on to the City Guard’s inspectors and promised she’d take a look at the patrols in the area to fill in whatever gap had allowed the attack to happen completely unobserved. She also gave him a writ for an arcane prosthetic eye from the Mage Academy’s experts, and sent him on his way.

The Seneschal returned, finally, with a folder holding nearly an inch’s worth of papers. “The death knight’s plea, Your Highness,” he said unnecessarily, handing it to her. “And simply to remind you, David is here and available to take over whenever you’d like to leave.”

“Which would be now, thanks,” she said. “I’ll look at this today, but I don’t want to slow things down in here anymore than I already have.” She flashed a wry smile and nodded slightly in the direction of the people who’d clogged the room when she’d taken a seat. None of them had stepped forward with a complaint or a plea for the Petitioner’s Chamber. They were there to watch her.

“I’ll fetch him, then,” the Seneschal said with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Luciana took her leave after two more brief cases. David was making his way through the room, his name badge identifying him as a clerk, and when she saw him coming Luciana stood abruptly from the desk and left. She went around the walls of the room to avoid too much trouble. The Royal Guards, thankfully, were already prepared for her passing and they kept people from crowding around her too tightly.

She managed to get out of the Chamber unscathed, and quickly made her way to a currently unused conference room. “I’d like to remain undisturbed,” she said to a guard as she unlocked the door with a skeleton key she kept on hand. “But we all know that never happens. So, keep it to a minimum. I trust that you know by now what can and can’t wait.”

“Sure thing, Your Highness,” the guard said, giving her a nod.

She shut the door firmly behind her, tied the curtains back and opened the window just enough for a breeze to cool her. The table was long and wide, and she opened the up the file and spread it out. Whoever had wrote it had done it well, organizing it into chapters that were clearly marked. The wording was as bare as it could be, barer than a carcass. Only the essential information was communicated, which was something she could appreciate.

_We death knights have a need for violence that was rooted into our very souls. We need to find an outlet that won’t dry up. We do not want to harm civilians. The violence will find a way out, and we have no way to suppress it besides indulging it when needed. We were told by the King when we rejoined the world to go to the Court for solutions, that you would help us. We have come to you to show our willingness to cooperate. We hope you have the same willingness._

Luciana smiled humourlessly as she read through the multitude of chapters, each outlining a different part of the problem. Death knights, at their creation, had been mutilated by necrotic energies that had tied their souls to their runeblades and forced a need for bloodshed and violence into them. If not sated, that bloodlust could literally drive them insane, and they would attack their own allies, even their own living family members, until their runeblade was satiated for a few days. Some, she learned as she read, could suppress it for nearly a month, but most could only manage just shy of five days before the murmurings started to deafen them to everything else.

She sighed heavily through her nose, shuffled the papers into a neat pile and braced her head on her fist. The death knights needed an outlet. A leaky faucet that no one could seem to shut off, shy of sealing it with mortar.

“Something we can’t seal,” Luciana murmured to herself, and then she smiled crookedly. “Something no one can seem to seal for very long. Something that just keeps spitting out more.”

She stood, collecting the papers back into their file. She had a death knight to see, one who apparently wrote reports with very little flair. On her way out of the Keep she handed the file off to the Seneschal with orders to see it safely to her desk. She waved forward two guards and they tailed her while she shrugged on a coat kept in the front vestibule on her way out into the open courtyard.

She had a courier sent to the Blue Recluse restaurant and tavern with only a few murmured words. The Mage District didn’t often see large crowds, and the restaurant had private booths and rooms that could be used for larger parties. They weren’t many, but Luciana’s group would need the privacy. She sent the courier with instructions to have the room readied immediately, as she didn’t want to linger in the Trade District long enough for her presence to cause a problem.

Scourgelord Mordreth had been named for the armor he’d worn since the naming of the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Luciana could identify him among the crowds of adventurers in the square by it. The plate battlegear was blackened saronite, purple necrotic energies seeping from between its pieces. The eyes seemed to steam with it like dry ice.

Though they no longer held allegiance to the Scourge the titles they’d once held had stuck. Luciana thought it appropriate – they were still undead but now they were their own brand of scourge. Their own lords.

“Scourgelord Mordreth?” Luciana called, her voice carrying easily over the crowds. The helmed head turned slowly and came to a smooth stop when it faced her. His head was nearly turned halfway around. She smiled tightly. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said. His voice echoed as though it came through a metal tube. His body turned to match the direction his head was facing and he approached her slowly, his arms hardly moving while he walked. When he was only a few steps away, he stopped, giving her plenty of room.

He was much taller than her, probably close to Varian’s height. She’d noted in past encounters that death knights were abnormally tall - she’d have opportunity to ask about it while talking to Mordreth. “Come,” she said. “I’ve organized for a private meeting room in the Blue Recluse. You don’t mind the walk?” she asked dryly, already turning to move.

“No,” he said flatly. “My legs are already dead.”

She snorted a laugh. It seemed some of his humour had, at least, survived the trauma of resurrection intact.

He was silent as they walked, the clank of his armoured boots against the cobblestone road being the only noise he made. The dull thud of Luciana’s rubber-heeled boots matched it. She took a relatively swift pace that Mordreth followed easily. They reached the edge of the District soon, and the crowds cleared almost the moment they were over the bridge.

The courier she’d sent met them just inside the Mage District, jogging up to her and taking up a position to her left, in an empty spot in her small retinue. “They’re ready for you, Princess,” he reported. “They just want to know what you’d like to have them prepare for you.”

“I’m in the mood for apple whisky,” she said. “Soft cheeses, if they have good ones. And, I think, smoked violet perch and pear.” She smiled. “Actually, just tell them apple whisky. I want to see what they give me.”

“Your Highness,” the courier said, bowing his head before taking off at a brisk jog. 

Luciana slowed her pace to let the restaurant prepare itself. Mordreth adjusted himself as well, shortening his steps to match her. By the time they reached the Blue Recluse, a man was waiting for them just outside the terrace. He was wringing his hands, and when he saw them coming up the grassy incline twisting around the center of the District, he dropped his hands and bowed at the waist.

“Your Highness, it’s an honour to welcome you to the Blue Recluse tavern,” he said as he straightened. He didn’t meet her eyes, and she came to a stop in front of him. Mordreth, to her right, removed his sword belt and leaned his runeblade against the waist-high brick wall around the terrace. Luciana turned and gave him a brief, curious look.

“Is the room ready?” Luciana asked, turning back to the man.

“Yes, of course!” he said, stepping aside and gesturing for them to enter the restaurant. “Everything’s been prepared, and you won’t be bothered. I am Joachim, the bartender. We’ve brought out only the best for you, Your Highness.”

“Lead me to the room, then.”

Joachim, she could tell, was hardly keeping his cool. It wasn’t often a member of the Royal family wanted to rent a room last-minute with a death knight and only two guards in tow, with no nobles to speak of nearby. Still, he managed admirably, and brought her to a comfortably wide lounge with dark, warm colours and relaxed lighting. The hearth had a low fire that crackled behind iron gates.

The table was off to the side of the room. It was a bit lower than a normal dining table, made of thick wood stained a rich brown. Two well-stuffed armchairs sat before it, turned away from the table as though inviting someone to sit in them. They were not opposite each other, but there was plenty of space between them.

There was already an unopened bottle of whisky on the table, with two crystal tumblers and a matching decanter and ice bucket.

“Please, do sit,” Joachim said, gesturing to the chairs. Luciana sat first, as was her right, and leaned back into the chair crookedly, her elbow braced on the arm. Joachim had the bottle in his hand, and seemed more comfortable now that he was in his element. “Angus Stern is our head chef. He suggests Stormwind brie and Darnassian bleu to accompany your drinks.” He prepared the whisky as he spoke, dropping two rough ice chunks about a square inch in size into each tumbler. He first poured a bit of the whisky into the decanter and held out his hand towards Luciana’s glass. “I will sample the drink first, Your Highness, to ensure its safety.”

He seemed confident enough, and she allowed the gesture of good faith with a nod. She would have had one of her guards test the drink first, but if Joachim was offering, he must’ve truly believed it wasn’t poisoned.

He took her glass, with the ice as it would’ve been just as easy to poison the water before freezing it. A sip’s worth of whisky was poured, he swirled it around a bit, and drank it. He set the decanter down, wiped the glass with a crisp-looking cloth from his breast pocket, and put it on the table.

“Pour the drinks,” Luciana said, and he swiftly obeyed.

“If you’ll be staying long, Angus Stern suggests braised malt pork ribs, or smoked red fish such as salmon or trout. We have an excellent selection of desserts available, and to match apple whisky we would suggest dark chocolate flavours and tart fruit – pears, apples,” he said as he poured the whisky.

“I hope we don’t mix up the drinks,” Mordreth said dryly. “Only one was tested.”

“Oh,” Joachim stuttered, brought up short. “Shall I, uh, test m’lord’s drink as well...?”

Luciana turned to Mordreth, smiling wryly. “I don’t believe it’s necessary, since he’s already dead as he so clearly stated earlier. But, if he wants...”

“I am already dead,” he agreed. “Like I said. We’d best not mix up our drinks.”

“I think I can remember that my drink is on the right side of the table, and yours on the left,” she said, 

“It’s round.”

She gave him a look, one with her eyebrow quirked, that clearly showed how unimpressed she was. A moment later, it broke, and she looked to Joachim. “You mentioned smoked trout.”

“Ah, yes. Caught fresh every day at noon at Thunder Falls, and brought in by gryphon,” he explained. “It’s prepared immediately and kept over ice to preserve its freshness. Today we have thunderhead trout and freshwater red salmon from the river, though if you’d prefer rock lobster or catfish we do, of course, have it on hand.”

“Smoked trout,” Luciana said slowly, deliberating. “But, you know that I am a warrior.”

“Of course. Shall I have them prepare the ribs as well, then?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I’ll take the fish, first, after the cheese. You know, the cooks in the Keep have this wonderful recipe for baked pears that they lifted from the cooks in the Amadeus manor years ago,” she started. “With goat cheese, and cured ham and praline pecans.”

“The head chef has likely heard of it,” Joachim said. “He’s close friends with Chef Robby Flay, who had cooked for the King for many years.”

“So I’ve heard. Yes, see if he knows it,” she said. “It is my favourite.” Joachim left quickly and quietly when Luciana turned her head away in a clear dismissal. She looked at Mordreth in silence for a few moments. “Take off the helm,” she said. Her tone was not demanding or rough, but she was not asking, and Mordreth obediently reached up to remove his helm. 

Without it Luciana could see his dull red hair, swept away from his face, that just reached the tips of his ears. His face was sallow and pale and hardly disguised by his goatee. He was missing flesh over his left cheekbone, revealing the pale skull underneath. His eyes glowed an icy blue that whispered smoke-like from seemingly empty sockets. His direct gaze, she found, was harsh and sharp, and undoubtedly intelligent. He was clearly a commander.

He set his helm on the table before leaning back into his chair. The energy of the eyes of the helm had faded when he removed it, but it still glowed a faint, dark purple. Luciana imagined they might have to reupholster the chair if his armour wasn’t as smooth as it looked. “You read the proposition,” he said.

“Yes. I think I have a solution for you.”

“That was fast.”

“It’s a solution for you,” she said, “but you’re a solution for it as well. You’re aware of the situation in Duskwood?”

“Which one? The ogres, the worgen, the undead, or the spiders?”

“The worgen, mainly. Wards were set up long ago to contain the undead and they’ve been doing very well with minimal upkeep. But the worgen are a problem.” She sipped her whisky. It left her mouth a bit dry, and she rolled her tongue, enjoying the lightness and slightly sweet taste. “Feral worgen, from the Emerald Nightmare, have been plaguing Darkshire for years. I’ve been through there twice to clear them out myself, and they’re still coming. Every time you kill one, it returns to the Nightmare, regains its form, and comes back out. They’re an endless stream of feral, rabid, intelligent beasts.”

Mordreth tilted his head slightly. “We’ve tried slaughtering beasts. Only sapient creatures sate the runeblades.”

“I would say that feral worgen are sapient, considering they were once night elves that fell under the control of their fury and the fury of the pack form,” Luciana said, giving her whisky a little shake to hear the ice chunks tinkle against the crystal. “If you’re not sure, I’ll send for a preliminary report. A handful of death knights can go to Duskwood, wait until their runeblades start to complain, and kill a few worgen. Of course, I wouldn’t tell them to wait until it becomes unbearable.”

“Agreed,” Mordreth said simply. “I will send three to Duskwood.”

“There should be plenty of ferals in the Darkened Bank and in the Brightened Grove ,” Luciana said. “I emptied out the Emerald Hills around the Twilight Grove and while I’m sure there are already some ferals repopulating the place, it’ll be sparse. They’ve two sources, we think. The Twilight Grove, which has a portal to the Emerald Dream in its heart, and Roland’s Doom.”

“Sounds like our kind of place.”

She smiled thinly at his comment. “It’s a cave in the southern mountains,” she explained. “It took some investigating but a couple of adventurers could give us more details. It seems some mysterious scythe was found by an unfortunate man called Jitters, stuck in the back wall of the cave. When he pulled it out, the worgen began to spontaneously manifest. Now they’re a full greater pack, the Nightbane. King Greymane believes it was the Scythe of Elune. It can summon feral worgen from the Emerald Nightmare. I believe it currently rests within Darnassus. But, our problem in Duskwood remains.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Mordreth said. “I’ll send three by tonight. They’ll send back word of whatever they find out.”

“Send that word to me, then, when you have it,” Luciana said, just as the door opened to reveal Joachim with a platter of various cheeses and smoked fish. “I’m eager to resolve the situation.” When the platters were on the table and a guard had securely shut the door, Luciana looked to Mordreth. “Now,” she said. “Tell me more about death knights. I want to know as much as you do.”

“Not many would be interested in people that smell like dead fish.”

“You are my subjects,” she explained. “And I would know more about those I rule.”

Obediently, he began to speak. He told her of their forced violence, and answered her questions about runeblades and their traumatic resurrections and experimentation on their physical bodies.

“Why leave your runeblade outside, if it holds your soul?” she asked.

“So that it does not tempt me to stab people,” he said.

“They whisper to you constantly?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s easy to ignore, if the runeblade was recently sated. But after a week of no blood, they get antsy,” he said. “So it’s best to just leave them outside.”

“Doesn’t the distance affect you?”

“If I left it in the Trade District, it would. But this is close enough to not be a problem.”

“I also imagine that it makes the living breath a little easier when you leave it behind.”

“Of course. They’re nasty to be around, if you’re not used to it.”

“What, the living?” Luciana joked with a half-smile.

“Yes. You stink to the high heavens.”

“It’s all the sparring. I sweat, I can’t help it,” she said with a shrug.

“Maybe you should bathe in the canals, then. I’ll help. I can throw people pretty far. It’s really quite a sight.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Luciana said. “What of your memories, then? Do death knights often remember their previous lives?”

“It varies. It also depends on who tied your soul to your rotting corpse. Some Scourge necromancers believe that the memories of the living only make us weak. Others believe that taking them away will take away our will, and make us useless as death knights, no better than simple-minded ghouls. I remember quite a bit,” Mordreth said. “I was born outside of Darkshire. Lived there for quite a while. Not sure why I left, but I did, and I ended up in Southshore. Don’t know how I got caught up in the Scourge, and I could’ve sworn I didn’t die where they found my body, but here I am anyway.”

Luciana quirked an eyebrow at him over her whiskey. “Is that a lot, then, to remember?” she asked. “Do others not know that much about themselves?”

“We aren’t who we used to be, Princess,” Mordreth said. “My past self was a different man. I am someone else completely.”

“But you were him, at one time.”

“But I am not now.”

“You have his memories,” she said. “His soul. His body.”

“But these things are not his anymore. They’re mine.”

Luciana quieted for a moment, absently took a forkful of food. “So,” she said slowly, gathering another bite of fish. “You were born in Duskwood?”

“Yes. Just outside of Darkshire. There was a small town there. It’s not there anymore.”

“Did you have family left behind?”

“Probably. We have very noticeable red hair. That much, I remember. Also, the necromancers found it hilarious that a freshly resurrected year-old corpse had brighter hair than they.”

“Do you find yourself wondering about them?” she asked. “What and who you left behind?”

“Not really. They’d prefer, I think, not having a puppet-body held together by necrotic energy and controlled by a mangled, warped soul that’s tied to a runeblade that regularly demands sapient sacrifice at their dinner table.”

Luciana smiled humourlessly at his description. “Mordreth, from the point of view of the living,” she started, “I can guarantee you that if one of my brothers came back a year after his death as a death knight, I would welcome him. He would still be my brother.”

“He wouldn’t be the person you knew.”

“Perhaps not, but he would have that person inside him.” She sighed loosely. “He’d have the memories that I do of our time spent together. Though I understand that not all people have the same opinions on these things.”

Mordreth shrugged one shoulder. “I have no desire to return because of family ties,” he said. “If they want to see me, that’s fine. I’m indifferent to it either way.”

“And what about the others like you, who remember?” she asked. “If they have interest in revisiting family members, what do you do?”

“Let them.”

“And if they cannot find them?” Mordreth didn’t answer, and Luciana glanced at him. “If that does happen,” she said, and then took a bite of food. After a moment, she continued. “Send them to the Veteran’s Center. I’ll have something be set up for death knights soon. You’re more useful to me if you have ties to the kingdom.”

“By your will, Your Highness.”


	39. First Sergeant

He normally spent his leave between tours at his family’s farm in Redridge. It was a nice place, warm and a bit too humid with the fog that came off the lake every morning. He was used to the forest air, and it was always a bit of an adjustment. The Colburn Farm always needed more hands, though, and when he was there he was glad for it. The work kept him distracted.

This time, though, he’d decided to spend his leave in Stormwind. He had a full month to explore the city he hadn’t visited in years. His sister had been disappointed, but James had a good reason. He’d heard rumours that the Prince and Princess would soon ascend to the throne – and he wanted to at least be there for the announcement.

The Trade District was the busiest part of the city at nearly any time of the day or night. He’d found lodgings nearby, in the Cathedral Square. They gave it to him at a discount because of his military service. It wasn’t more than a half hour’s walk to get to the main square in Trade. If he timed it right, he could potentially be right at the front of the crowds when the town crier came to make the proclamation. It’d likely be right at the Hero’s Call Board. Most city-wide announcements were given there.

It’d already been nearly a week. James spent most of his time in Trade. After the announcement, he told himself, he’d visit the Old Town and the Mage Quarter.

When the day was past afternoon and into evening, James moved on from the merchant’s stalls in disappointment. No announcement so important would be made at such a late time. No, it would happen at the busiest time of the day. It was only rumours, he knew, but... He was sure it was coming. After all, King Varian had been in power for thirty years, give or take, and the Prince and Princess were already taking much of the sovereign power and representation. Plus, there were three royal heirs already and a great war had just been won. Change was coming and James wanted to be there to see them take the throne.

He visited the Old Town earlier than he’d planned, as he still had much of the evening to while away. He could visit the Command Center while he was there and see how the Veteran’s Service Center was doing. Maybe he could visit them there, as well. He’d heard they had weekly meetings, sometimes more, in one of the Keep’s many conference rooms. He certainly had his own stories to tell, after what he’d been through in the Vale.

He didn’t expect a warm welcome at the Command Center, and he didn’t get one. It was a military compound and he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He belatedly reached under the collar of his tunic and pulled out his dog tags so they could rest against his chest. If someone wanted to know his business there, they’d see his tags first.

“Where’re you from?” a man asked, and a moment later a hand was offered. James half-turned to see him – a retired rifleman, by the look in his sharp eyes.

“Westbrook. On leave.” James shook his hand once, solidly, and the man grinned crookedly.

“Nice set-up out there. But you look harder than that. Where’d you serve?”

“Tol Barad,” he replied. “Won some in Warsong Gulch. And I was at the opening of the Vale. That was hell.”

“I heard about it. Name’s Dean,” the man introduced. “I was a rifleman out in Valiance Keep for the longest time. Fucking hate Nerubians. But, I did get to fight with the Princess.”

“Yeah?” James said, his interest piqued. “I’m James. Tell me about it.”

Dean led him to a quiet corner where they could sit and talk in peace, without getting in the way of one of the many officers and officials visiting the Center. On the way there he snatched a pitcher of beer and two worn wooden mugs from a buffet table that lay against the wall. 

“It was a few years ago,” Dean said. “Back when she was still a Knight Lieutenant. They sent her and her Company out to Northrend to back us up, give the Shire peasants some help. They ended up all over the damn place, even heading out to the Fjord and the Hills. But while she was in Valiance, man...” he trailed off, and then grinned wickedly. “You should have seen her. Even before this whole Scarjaw shit really took off, she was a sight.”

“She’s a warrior,” James said. “It’s to be expected.”

“Yeah, but this? This was somethin’ else entirely, my friend. She brought the heat, let me tell you. I was gettin’ dog-piled by Nerubians, the little ones, and she comes swinging in. Two seconds, and three of ‘em are in pieces. Five seconds in and she’s taken down one of the huge fuckers, the tank ones that can’t even fly they’re so fucking big. She was a sight,” Dean sighed.

“Wish I could’ve been there. She came to Westbrook a while ago for an inspection. Even just that, with her blackrock armour,” James said.

“She’s a sight, eh?” Dean interrupted. “Sometimes I’m a mite jealous of the Prince, but they’re a good match. He deserves no less, I’d say.”

James’ smile was brittle. “Right. I came to Stormwind for my leave because of the rumours, but it looks like I won’t hear anything else.”

“What, the ones about their coronation?” Dean asked. “I’ve heard a bit of it through VetCen. Apparently they are going to ascend soon. Like, real soon. It’s gonna move fast once it starts and within a few months the Princess is supposedly gonna be in Kalimdor, directing military ops from the top.”

“What? Really?” James asked, brow furrowing. “Why Kalimdor?”

“I dunno. But she and the Prince have a plan, a big one. I can’t wait to see it happen.” Deacon chuckled, and took a deep drink. “They’re gonna need a lot of people, though. Can’t imagine there’s much right now, save for night elves and draenei. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great to have, but she’s gonna want humans at her side. Right? Her own people. Hope they can find good ones, with experience.”

Dean chatted a bit more – he was eager to talk about the Princess, about the few times he’d fought with her Company. James, however, was thoroughly distracted, and eventually excused himself when the light outside was low.

“I should get going before it’s too dark,” he said. “I’m not used to the canals anymore and I really don’t want a letter going back to my Knight saying I drowned like a rat.”

Dean barked a laugh, slapped James’ shoulder roughly and gave him a shake. “Come back anytime, James,” he said. “I’m here often enough, dealing with paperwork like a good retiree.”

James did not fall into the canals on his way back to his rented room. His thoughts were full of the Princess, of what kind of things she might be planning in Kalimdor, of what kinds of people she’d need, of any support position he could fill. This was his chance, he knew it. He could feel it in the tightness of his gut. This wasn’t something he could miss out on.

The next morning, he was out with the sun. He’d made sure to get plenty of rest the night before, and had spent nearly an hour in the morning getting ready. He wanted to look his absolute best. He’d trimmed and shaped his short beard, showered with his clothes hung up so that the cloth would loosen in the hot steam, washed his face and applied his favourite scented aftershave, washed and combed his hair until he was satisfied with the way it looked, and dressed in his best clothes. He’d shined his boots meticulously, inspected every inch of himself for any kind of fault, obsessively smoothed out what few slight wrinkles remained in his shirt, and then he’d shrugged on his best double-breasted parade coat and pinned his insignia of rank over the right breast of his coat, where it belonged.

He debated over hiding his dog tags under his coat or displaying them until he was nearly at the Keep itself. He fretted over it for a few wasted minutes, just out of sight of the great gates, and then he took a deep breath. “This is not the manner of a soldier of the Imperial Army,” he muttered angrily to himself. “If you are to be worthy of serving under the Princess when she is Queen, you must show it.”

With that, he decided – he would proudly display his dog tags for all to see. After all, he was a soldier of the Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces. He wished to show his worth to his Princess, wanted to serve under her when she wore the crown. Who but a soldier could she trust to be loyal, to be steadfast and resolute in their service? To bear her orders, unfaltering, and to proudly display their fidelity to her House?

None. That was who. James Colburn was a soldier, and he’d be damned if he showed any hint of shame in that, in his service to his kingdom and his people and his Queen – his King, still, he reminded himself. But soon, to his Queen.

The Royal Guards did look at him when he passed them. It was quite early for any visitors, especially well-dressed ones. That spoke of formal business. He wondered if there was any Royal business conducted so early after the sunrise. He decided it didn’t matter. He would wait for hours, days if he had to.

The Lord Seneschal was at his usual post near the entryway, about halfway up the Main Hall. The Petitioner’s Chamber, James noted, was busy even at this time of the morning.

“Greetings,” the Seneschal called out, watching James approach with an air of aloofness. “What business do you have this morning in the castle, soldier?”

James’ thoughts ground to a halt, and then he remembered – he didn’t have to impress the Seneschal, he only had to show his loyalty. “I am here to offer service to the Princess,” James said calmly, “in whatever manner befits a man of my station and experiences.”

The Seneschal smiled thinly. “I see. The Princess has not yet made an appearance, and as such has not yet made herself available for public business save for dire circumstances. It would be best if you were to return at a more regular hour.”

“I will wait,” James said. “And when she is available, please let her know that First Sergeant Colburn is awaiting her orders.”

He didn’t know how well she would take that. He didn’t even know if she’d remember him. He was one face in a thousand, in a hundred thousand, and she had much bigger things to worry about. She might also take offense at his forwardness, and then he’d have no option but to bury himself alive for shame. But it was the only chance he had, and he was going to take it.

“Very well. You may wait in the Petitioner’s Chamber, where there is room to sit and have water. Or you may wait in the courtyard, though it is a bit chilly at this hour. I believe the library will be opened to the public soon, as well.”

James nodded curtly and about-faced. He’d wait at the library, where it would be calm. Relatively so. He knew some professors – they could get pretty excitable. But, it would be better than the Petitioner’s Chamber. And he didn’t want to come back ruddy-faced and windswept after spending time in the enclosed courtyard connected to the Throne Room.

He did have to skirt the edge of the courtyard on his way to the library, but thankfully it was already opened to the general public and he could hurry in and find a quiet place to sit. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, his gut constricted like it had been last night. Every passing hour, it seemed, it felt tighter.

He was grateful for the tables of food scattered throughout the library for the classes held during the day. It was mostly bread, some cheeses, and plenty of water. He poured a tall glass of water for himself and filled a cloth napkin with cheese and bread and retreated to his corner. He didn’t want to be talking to the Princess, not that it was likely she’d seek him out personally, and have his stomach growl angrily.

He ended up halfway through a book on thermodynamics, little of which he understood because of a lack of prior knowledge, when a castle courier found him.

“The Lord Seneschal would like to see you,” the boy, barely a teenager, said brightly. “He’s just outside the Petitioner’s Chamber.”

James shut his book, made sure there weren’t any crumbs in his beard, and stood. He brushed some wrinkles from his coat and tugged the bottom to straighten it. “Thank you,” he said, and the boy immediately turned and rushed out to deliver his next message.

The Lord Seneschal was indeed waiting for him. “It seems you’re in luck today,” the Seneschal said, his tone a bit dry. “The Princess had a luncheon at noon, but it was cancelled suddenly. She will see you then.”

James’ mouth felt dry. “It’s a quarter to noon,” he said.

“Yes, it is. I hope you realize how rare it is that the Princess would so personally and immediately see to a citizen’s concern,” the Seneschal said in an impersonal, business-like manner. “And what an honour it is to take lunch with the Princess, when she could easily and perhaps more preferably have taken it with her husband the Prince, or with the King, and with her sons, and perhaps with her brother whom she is hosting.”

“Of course,” James croaked. “Ah, where...?”

“Guard Rainier will show you,” the Lord Seneschal said, waving a Royal Guard forward. “Rainier, please show First Sergeant Colburn to the Princess.”

“Of course, Lord,” the guard nodded brusquely. “Come on, then,” he said to James, and then nodded towards the Throne Room. “It’s through here.”

James followed along numbly as though in a marching exercise. His thoughts were at once racing and completely still. He was going to eat lunch with Princess Luciana in less than fifteen minutes. He hardly even noticed the tangled route they took through the Keep, and only realized they’d arrived when they stopped outside a heavy iron-bound wooden door.

He fiddled nervously with his dog tags while Guard Rainier went into the room to speak with the Princess. He abruptly took his hand back and fell into parade rest. He was a soldier, Light damn it, and he was going to act like one. One of the two door guards eyed him from behind her helm, and he resolutely ignored it.

Guard Rainier opened the door from the inside and motioned for James to enter. “The Princess is inside,” he murmured. “She’s not in the best of moods right now, but I’m not sure why, so just tread lightly.”

“Thank you,” James muttered. He cleared his throat, straightened his collar, brushed his hands down his coat, rubbed a hand over his beard to check one last time for crumbs or stray hairs, and marched through the door.

Princess Luciana was lounging easily in a padded wooden dining chair. The center of the room was occupied by a long, heavy, dark-stained table, and one end of it was taken by her. Not just the space needed for the chair, but the entire end of the table. In front of her were empty plates and cutlery, empty crystal wine glasses and a matching decanter already filled with dark red wine. She had a book in her lap, held open with one hand, the other holding her head with the elbow on the arm of her chair. James’ eyes flickered from one thing to the other frantically, trying to take in everything while avoiding staring.

“Your Highness,” he said quietly, bowing at the waist. “It is an honour. Thank you for seeing me.”

“Sit,” she said without looking up from her book. There was only one other chair in the room, and it was next to her – to her right, the place already set with plates and a glass. James swallowed thickly and took his seat as quietly as he could. After a few moments, she sighed quietly through her nose, shut her book, and set it on the corner of the table, out of the way. “First Sergeant Colburn. Can I call you James?”

“Of course,” he said quickly, and internally grimaced. Too quickly, he chided himself.

“James. Seneschal William tells me you want to offer your services to me. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“And what kind of services can you offer?” she asked, still lounging easily in her chair.

“I am a soldier, Your Highness,” he started. “I’ve been in the army for nearly fifteen years. I’ve served loyally under the banner of your House, fought and bled for my people in the name of the King. All I want is to continue to serve loyally, and if I can have the privilege of serving under you, then I will fill any function you see fit to hand to me.”

She smiled almost softly, secretively. “I see you’ve heard the rumours.”

“Your Highness?” he asked cautiously.

“Soon, I will be Queen,” she said, nearly inaudible but not whispering. She had no reason to whisper - she was Luciana Wrynn. “I will take command of the Alliance’s combined military might and lead them in Kalimdor towards a goal on which I’ve decided with Prince Anduin. I will need smart, stalwart, and loyal people on whom I can depend. What we plan is a paradigm shift, and with it will come opposition and chaos. I need to know that those who serve me will not turn their backs to the enemy and show me their blades.”

“Princess?” he whispered.

“Let us eat, first,” she said with a sudden lopsided smile, her eyes sharp as daggers. “Think on what I said.”

A second, nondescript door opened, and a handful of servants entered bearing food. A trolley was rolled in and covered trays were placed in front of the Princess, the dome-like covers removed without fanfare. There was hearty fare on the table - red meat and potatoes, fiddleheads that smelled of lemon, sliced apples, and roasted vegetables that nearly tasted of garlic before they even touched his tongue. There were things James didn’t even notice until the Princess took some onto her plate.

“Eat,” she said simply. “You’ve been here since sunrise. Take your fill.”

When she was halfway through her second serving she wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair to look at him. He slowed in the process of cutting a piece of beef, let his cutlery rest leaned against the plate, and looked up to her, awaiting orders.

“What do you think, James?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“I will serve you,” he said simply, and she smiled.


	40. On the Subject of Paramours

The day had been a long one, and Luciana wanted nothing more than to undress and crawl into bed with Anduin. He would be tired and he’d have a hard time getting comfortable, still riled up from the day’s activities. She’d watch as he would sit up, huff a sigh of frustration, and turn to her. She’d sit up with him, let him lean his weight into her. He’d relax, let the tension bleed out of him, and she’d pepper kisses along his shoulders and find that one ticklish spot that always made him twitch and smile fondly at her over his shoulder.

That was what she wished would happen, like it had so often before. But tonight would be difficult. Anduin wanted to talk more on the subject of paramours - something he’d brought up early in the morning, before breakfast. It had put her in an outright foul mood for the entire day, and she’d hardly kept from snapping James’ neck. He was a good soldier, a good man, and didn’t deserve it.

Luciana was the first to return to their chambers and took advantage of the momentary peace to try and collect her thoughts. She hadn’t expressed herself well that morning, had likely seemed selfish and angry. Well, she often seemed angry, but she’d never been angry when having a discussion with Anduin. She hadn’t expressed herself well, hadn’t tried past her aggravation, and she’d seen it in the flash of hurt in Anduin’s face, the way his posture had stiffened before he left abruptly.

She sighed and leaned over the sink. It creaked under her weight, but it was a solid fixture and didn’t give past that. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For this morning. I should have been more patient with myself and given myself time to talk before getting angry, and you suffered for it. I’m sorry.” She paused, collected her thoughts. “I don’t like the thought of... of sharing myself. With anyone. But you. I... I am yours, Anduin. You’re the one who opened... who lets me open myself, lets me feel human. I love you. I don’t want someone else.”

She heard the doorknob creak as it was turned. A few moments later the door shut, and someone stepped into the room. They moved confidently, like they belonged there, knew the place well. Luciana eased the bathroom door open further and a faint scent wafted in - Anduin.

She breathed deeply, scrubbed her hands over her face, and left the bathroom. She shut off the werelights absently, and left the door open.

“Lucy,” Anduin greeted softly. He finished unbuttoning his overcoat and shrugged out of it.

“Anduin,” she replied. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this morning. I wasn’t... I didn’t give myself time. To think. I was having a hard time expressing myself, and that always makes me angry and I got angry at you and I shouldn’t have.” Anduin folded his coat over the back of an armchair and looked up at her. He didn’t speak. “I was angry with myself,” she said. “You suffered for it. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he said, and then the tense line of his shoulders eased a bit and he smiled softly. “Do you want to try again now?”

“I think I should.”

“Probably.”

She sighed. “Why don’t you get undressed, first?” she said.

“No, I’m fine,” he responded, sitting in the chair he’d used as a shelf for his coat. “I’m listening.”

She regarded him, a bit annoyed that he hadn’t allowed her to stall. But, she reasoned, he’d always seemed to know how to help her get it out in words. He likely knew she wouldn’t talk at all if she waited much longer.

Luciana sat in the chair opposite him, sitting on her hands and letting her head drop. “I don’t like thinking about being open with someone else,” she started. “I don’t want to be soft with someone else. I don’t want to share myself. I’m yours, Anduin, and I know you don’t like it when I say that and I always clarify. If you give me a moment,” she added, and he smiled crookedly. “I say I’m yours, but I don’t mean that... that you own me, or something. I say that I’m yours because... well, that’s how I think of it. I’m married to you. I’m your wife, your partner. I can’t replace you with someone else, no matter how temporary. I can’t be someone else’s.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” Anduin said.

“I know. It feels like you are, though, and maybe that’s the problem. You open me up. You let me be human, but you never make me feel like I owe you. It’s always been... a gift? You offer it. Like you offer your hand. I don’t want to feel like I’m dependant on someone and if I had someone else I would feel that way. I love you,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Lucy,” he whispered, hurt clear in his face. Had she done it wrong again? Damn it, why couldn’t she say it right? “I think I didn’t make myself clear, either, this morning. That’s not at all what I’m asking you to do. What I’m suggesting, it’s no different from hiring an escort, except you have one escort who’s on payroll for every night you want one.”

“I don’t want one,” she said softly.

“You can’t fight every day,” he reasoned. “And you can’t be alone like that for years at a time. You need to be soft with someone or it’ll hurt you, and you know it.”

“I don’t want one,” she repeated stubbornly.

“Don’t you like to have sex?” he tried.

“I do like to have sex. That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with anyone who looks at me.”

His jaw clenched and he looked away for a moment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, looking back at her with an apology clear in his face. “At all. I just meant... You like fighting, right? And if someone who could challenge you wanted to fight, wouldn’t you take the time to spar?”

“Fighting and sex aren’t the same thing,” she said. “Not anymore.”

Anduin’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Fighting is fighting. You let out fury, energy, you refine your technique and your body. Fine. Sex isn’t... it’s not just about letting out fury. I like to have sex with you because I like to see you... I like it when I can make you feel good. I like knowing, seeing that. Sometimes it’s about letting out fury, sure. Sometimes. But when I wake up from a nightmare and I reach over to you, do you really think that’s just my fury?” she asked. “I’m just... using you?”

“No!” he said quickly, aghast, leaning forward and reaching out to take her hand. “No, Lucy. I’ve never thought that.”

“Good,” she said, and lost her tongue for a moment. “Well. It’s not. I’m not,” she corrected. “You’re the most important person in my life, Anduin.” She paused again. “I love you. I don’t want someone else.”

“I’m not asking you to take someone else,” he said, gently massaging her knuckles. Light slowly suffused her hand, and then her arm while he spoke, and it helped calm her a bit. “I’m... I’m not going to force you to take a paramour. I just want you to know that the option is available, that I wouldn’t think any less of you. And I wouldn’t doubt your love for me,” he added with a crooked smile. “How could I ever do that?”

She shrugged mutely, watching his fingers deftly work the tension from her hand.

“I would never,” he said softly. “What I’m suggesting is you bringing someone who, when you want or need it, will have sex with you to release a bit of tension and bring a bit of relief and intimacy when I’m not there. No questions asked, no awkwardness, no rumours. Someone who’s paid to bring you pleasure. Just like you pay a professional for a massage,” he said. 

“Just like we pay servants to prepare baths, and scent our sheets with peacebloom, and cook good meals for us,” Luciana added, and he nodded.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “You’re going to be under a lot of stress, with not many things to bring you pleasure. If I’m not going to be there to help you find it, I just want to make sure you can still have a bit of it. I want to know you’re taken care of,” he added. “I don’t want you to find someone else to love. I really don’t,” he added. “I want you to find someone who can bring you pleasure when all you want to do is kill the next person who has the gall to ask a favour from the Queen.”

“You want me to find a toy,” she summarized.

“Basically, yes. A well-paid toy.”

“I... I might be able to do that,” she said slowly. “A well-paid, well-treated toy. Maybe.”

“Think on it,” Anduin suggested. “We have time for that, at least.”

“Mm.” She sighed, gently taking his hand in both of hers. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“I’m purposefully leaving you,” she said. “For years. Not one year. Years. I don’t know how often we could visit each other. Anduin,” she said, her shoulders slumping as she looked up at him. “Why did I want to do that?”

He chuckled and smiled slowly. “I don’t know, Luciana. Because you wanted to be with your daughter, and you want her to be healthy. You want things to go well. You want our plans to work out well.”

“Yes, but I’m going to be there without you,” she said. She kissed the back of his hand, held it to her mouth while she spoke. “I’m going to hate myself for that until I can come back.”

“Oh, Lucy,” he sighed, hurt in his eyes again, and she cursed herself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.

“Lucy, you just told me you’re going to hate yourself. How can I not be hurt by that?”

“It’s not going to be forever. Just until I come back and I’m with you again.”

“I can’t let you do something you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret it. I’ll only regret leaving again. Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t?” she asked.

“I think you said you’d fight not to.”

“But I’m leaving. On purpose.”

“To be with Freya,” he said. “Our daughter. To make sure she’s raised well, with the knowledge that we love her.”

“But I’m leaving you again.”

He smiled, and gently pulled his hand away. She let him go, watched attentively as he moved. He stood, moved closer to her, and gently held her head in his hands. She leaned into his stomach, looked up at him, letting her shoulder lean against him. “I love you,” he said, brushing dark hair away from her forehead. “And I will miss you so much I won’t be able to sleep some nights. But I’ll manage, because this is part of what we decided. But I don’t want you to do it if you’re going to regret it.”

“I’ll do it,” she said. “We made a plan, and I want to follow it. I’ll need to be there to follow through, and you’ll need to be here to keep the other Houses from interfering. And to deal with Varian.”

“We did decide that,” he said with a smile. He brushed his hand through her hair again and she relaxed under his gentle ministrations, letting her eyes fall halfway shut. She sighed heavily, nestled into his stomach and breathed in deeply. “Will you think about it?” he asked after a while of silence.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll think about it. But I’ll be very picky, if I do decide to do it.”

“That would be expected, I think.”

“I don’t know what I’d tell Freya.”

“Tell her Mama had to bring a friend so she wouldn’t get lonely without Papa. When she’s older, a teenager maybe, she’ll understand. It’s not so unusual for a Noble, let alone a Royal. We’re very busy, very lonely people. Nearly every generation of Wrynns has had a paramour, or three.”

“Your Father didn’t.”

“That’s because of Onyxia.”

“I know. I wouldn’t, either, after the first turned out to be a black dragon who’d ensorcelled half my court and wrecked my kingdom.”

She felt Anduin chuckle, and wrapped her arms around the back of his legs, pressing her face into his stomach. “I love you,” she heard him murmur, burying both hands in her hair. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. Enaeon can take care of your aches and pains, but someone has to make sure you don’t sit up at night hating yourself.”

“You want them to distract me from your absence.”

“Just until I can do it myself, yes.”

She smiled into the cloth of his shirt. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you. And thank you for talking to me. I know it’s hard for you.”

“Thank you for making me talk. It is hard, but I have to do it. Otherwise I hurt you.”

“Otherwise, you hurt yourself.”

“I can deal with that. I know my own thoughts,” she explained. “I know why I do things and say things. But you can’t read my mind, so I talk.”

“Thank you.” Luciana could hear the soft smile he wore in his voice, feel it in the gentle hand in her hair. She inhaled deeply of his scent - of honeysuckle, spice tea and milk, dry wood and mussed sheets, and fiery, clean Light. Luciana smiled, content for the time being to simply enjoy Anduin’s presence.


	41. Bedtime Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!

Luciana sighed heavily. She’d spent the last few hours watching Tess bustle around the room, asking for Luciana’s opinion on fabrics, colours, stitching, and decorations, and everything in between.

“I know you can’t be bothered to not look like a farmer’s son dressed up for a city visit,” Tess snapped when she heard Luciana sigh for the sixth time in an hour. “But I will be Queen of Gilneas and I will look the part!”

“As I will look the part of Queen of Stormwind,” Luciana said. “But Tess, really? These shades of orange are the same.” She gestured to the patches of sample cloth that Tess had set aside.

Tess harrumphed, and crossed the room in a few long strides. She snatched up the patches and held them up in Luciana’s face. She leaned back as Tess advanced. “They’re umber!” she hissed, and Luciana sighed again, smiling fondly.

“They’re orange, Tess. This lighting is shit and you need glasses. They’re not umber, they’re orange. And they’re identical.”

“They are not!” Tess said. “This one is a few shades darker.”

“You said that about the other one, last time,” Luciana argued laughingly. “And I have better eyes than you, Tess. They’re the same.”

“They’re not,” she insisted, and dropped the patches to look for samples of navy amidst the mess she and several frantic Gilnean tailors had created.

Luciana sighed again, and watched her friend go. She knew the importance of image - as a Knight, she knew, and as a noble and as a Princess, she knew. But she’d already spent most of her day on her feet, and as rare as it was, she needed a break. She wanted it more than she needed it, as she hadn’t even had an hour for her sons that day.

“Tess,” Luciana said. “Tess!” she said again, louder, when it was evident Tess hadn’t heard her past the tailors bustling about the room.

“What?” Tess said over her shoulder, still occupied with the navy samples.

“Tess, I’ve got to go,” Luciana said, heaving herself to her feet. “This is the first time I’ve been tired since I was pregnant.”

“What?” Tess looked up at that, and then her brow furrowed and she dropped the cloth samples. It took her only a moment to cross the room and place her delicate, fair hands on Luciana’s cheeks. “You’re tired? You’re a warrior,” she reasoned. “Are you unwell?”

“I’ve had a long week, Tess,” Luciana said with a half-smile she knew looked more like a grimace. “We’ll talk more about this later, I promise.”

“And we all know you keep your promises,” Tess smiled.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen my kids all day.”

“Oh, my. Well, go on then,” Tess said, stepping back and waving Luciana away. “We’ll talk more about the heraldry tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Luciana leaned down to kiss Tess’s cheek. “It’s not like you don’t know where I live.”

“Oh, go on, you flirt,” Tess teased with a surprised half-smile.

“Only with you and Anduin,” Luciana promised with a smile of her own. As she turned, she wondered at the ease of the movement, of how simple it had been to kiss Tess farewell. The two princesses were friends, true, but Luciana had never had an easy time of it, of manifesting even the closest of friendships. But this time it had been automatic, without reason or thought put into it, and it had been received well. 

It took a bit of dodging but she avoided the tailors and made her way through the Keep to the Royal Wing. It was in the same area as the Gilnean Wing, cut off from the public sector, but still kept separate to give the two Royal Families room to manoeuvre without stepping on each other’s toes. As Luciana walked down the quiet halls, the patrolling guards moved aside with sharp salutes to let her pass. “I’m surprised at you,” she murmured to herself with a wry smile. “Going around kissing people. What would your husband think?” He’d probably be happy, if she thought to mention it to him.

The twins would be in their playroom at this time, no doubt already winding down from the day’s activities. The entire Keep had been like a disturbed anthill for the past week, the tension slowly growing while Varian sat on the announcement. Luciana wasn’t sure why he was waiting so long - perhaps he knew they had plans, and wanted to know of them first. But he couldn’t stall forever. They’d already planned ahead for the coronation to be at the end of July, while the weather was nicest, and it was nearing the beginning of May. At this rate they wouldn’t have the time to send out invitations to their allies, let alone prepare such a massive celebration. The latest they could push it to was the end of August, and even then they’d need some way to keep the day’s warmth in the streets during the night.

Anduin, she knew, had been trying to find out why Varian was stalling. He hadn’t spoken about it but Luciana knew he and Varian had been having private talks. She’d leave Anduin to it, and in the meantime take care of what planning she could before the announcement was actually made. The tailors were told that new heraldry was needed, but not for what. The castle servants had been told to merely prepare for coming celebrations, which wasn’t unusual for the summer. Everyone in Stormwind wanted to be outside while it was temperate. SI:7 knew, and the Captain of the Royal Guard knew, but the details had keep kept secret. All that remained was for the Alliance-wide proclamation to be made.

The Royal Guards in front of the twin’s playroom stepped aside when they saw her approaching. She paused, her hand on the door handle, and asked, “What time is it?”

“Just past eight, Your Highness,” a Guard responded quietly, leaning towards her and matching her volume. They were very respectful of her sensitive hearing, her Guards.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” He nodded, and stepped back into position.

She opened the door quietly - it was completely possible the twins were already bedding down with their caretakers. She hoped she could at least have a few more minutes with them. She regretted not taking more time in the past few weeks for them, but at least Anduin had been with them plenty.

“Your Highness,” a caretaker said, bowing at the waist.

“Your Highness,” the other two echoed, also bowing.

“Hello Sandra, Phillip, Mateo,” Luciana greeted in turn. “Where are the twins?”

“They’re in the bath with Margaret and Nancy,” Sandra replied. She was one of the oldest caretakers assigned to the Princes, and was sweet and sometimes easily distracted.

“Thank you,” Luciana said. “Carry on.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Sandra bowed her head and when Luciana looked at her, she belatedly hop-stepped out of the way of the bathroom door with a laugh. “Clumsy me, sorry!”

Luciana offered a smile, not wanting to talk but still wanting to reassure Sandra that no harm was done. The bathroom door was not locked, of course, with the Princes inside. She shut it quietly behind her.

She was silent for a minute, watching Bolvar splash at Alaric and receive a bath toy to the head in response. They were light and soft, meant for children, but Bolvar cried all the same and splashed at Alaric all the more for it.

“Boys, really!” Nancy scolded. “Enough of that now, playtime’s over.”

“He threw at me!” Bolvar cried.

“You’re splashing me!” Alaric said as Bolvar continued to splash soapy water at him.

“Bolvar, stop splashing your brother,” Luciana said, and Bolvar stilled and turned his head jerkily to look at her with his mouth slack and open slightly. He smiled, his mouth still open, unabashedly happy to see her. She smiled, warmth tightening her chest, and went to kneel next to the tub beside Margaret, a wiry and dark young woman with equally wiry and dark hair tied up on top of her head.

“Mama!” Bolvar crowed, holding his hands up.

“Hello, Bo,” Luciana said, taking one of his hands. She kissed it, mindful of the soap bubbles, and he giggled, and she smiled, breathless for a moment. “Hello, my little one. How are you?”

“I’m good!” he said.

“Good,” Luciana said. “Alaric, how are you?” she asked, looking at her eldest.

“I’m good!”

“Good.” She reached over and gently cupped the back of his head. It was dwarfed by her hand and she was careful, always so careful with her delicate little children. “It’s almost time for bed, huh?”

“Yeah, after a bath,” Alaric replied, scooting and wriggling until he was close enough to her to touch her face. He did touch her face, just to make sure he was close enough, and then settled back into the water. “After a bath we get to bed and hear a story.”

“I like stories about dragons,” Bolvar said. “Uncle Marcellus has a lotta good stories about dragons.”

“Yeah, but dragons is too big,” Alaric said wisely. “They won’t fit in the castle.”

Luciana smiled. “What about small dragons, then? Baby dragons. How old are you?”

“Three!” they answered in unison.

“So what about a three year old dragon? They’ll be small enough.”

“Yeah, we should ask Uncle Marcellus about little dagon... dragons,” Bolvar said slowly, “like us.”

“Yeah, but he is not in the castle,” Alaric argued.

“So when he returns, you can ask him,” Luciana said. “Why don’t you finish your bath, and I can tell you a story? Since I didn’t get to see you much today.”

“Okay!” Bolvar agreed immediately.

“About dragons?” Alaric asked.

“I can tell you a story about dragons,” Luciana said. “Or, I can tell you about your Uncle Enaeon.”

“Is he Uncle with Yaya?” Alaric asked.

“In the Essodar! Eggs... ex... Exodar!” Bolvar said, struggling but eventually and very proudly saying it correctly.

“Yes, your Uncle Enaeon, who is taking care of Freya in the Exodar,” Luciana said with a lopsided smile, pushing Bolvar’s wet hair away from his forehead. “Would you like to hear about him?”

“Yeah!” they agreed.

“Alright. Why don’t we finish up bath time?” Luciana asked, gently rubbing the back of Bolvar’s head. She looked at Alaric. “And then we can get into bed in our nice, comfy pyjamas, and hear a story. Sound good?”

“Yeah!”

Luciana quietly dismissed Nancy and Margaret for the night. “Take the others with you,” she said quietly. “I’ll take care of them tonight. Regular duties will resume in the morning.”

“Alright,” Nancy said. She had a sad smile on her face. Luciana was suddenly reminded of the time she’d first met Nancy, when she’d still been in an odd state after finding Frederic’s body. Somewhere between berserking and completely unconscious, unaware of most of what was going on around her. “Have a good night, Princess.”

“You too,” Luciana whispered. Nancy gently patted her shoulder before leaving, shutting the door behind her. Not many would dare to touch the Princess, but Nancy knew her well enough to know it would be a welcome touch. Not always, but certainly at times like these, when the castle was quiet and Luciana was calm.

Luciana somehow managed to handle two excited three year olds with only two hands, and got them dried off, their hair combed, their teeth brushed, and their pyjamas on. “Come on,” Luciana said, picking them up one at a time to put them in Bolvar’s bed. The two slept close together in the same room, as they were still young and small enough for it. For stories, though, they would always be in the same bed. “Up we get. Get comfy, you two,” she said, and when they were tucked into the bed with the sheets up under their armpits, their little arms on top of the duvet, she smiled. “I love you two so much,” she said quietly, tucking in a bit of loose duvet under Alaric’s hip.

“I love you too, Mama,” Bolvar said at the same time as Alaric said, “I love you Mama.” It was a bit discordant, but it made Luciana’s chest tight, and she put one knee on the bed to lean over and press a kiss to each of their foreheads.

“So,” Luciana asked, settling on the bed where their feet couldn’t quite reach. “Who’s ready to hear a story?”

“Me!”

“I am!”

“Good! Hush up, now, and Mama will tell you a story.” They settled in a bit more, and fell silent. Luciana smiled. “I’m going to tell you about the time your Uncle Enaeon saved Mama’s life,” she said.

“Mama is invisible!” Bolvar said.

“Invinsible. In... vin...ci...ble,” Alaric corrected.

“Almost, but not quite,” Luciana laughed. “It was dark,” she started. “Not quite night, but the sun had already set and we couldn’t see well at all.”

“Mama sees everything though. She got eyes like Popsicle,” Bolvar said.

“I didn’t always have these eyes,” she said. “The moon was just barely there, that night.” She held up her fingers, nearly touching, to illustrate. The twins watched her raptly with wide blue eyes. “Orcs, as you know, can see much better than humans in the dark. So we had to listen very carefully,” she whispered. 

“We listening,” Alaric whispered.

Luciana breathed a laugh. “We listened closely for them. My soldiers were well-trained, and we crouched in the shadows, listening.” She held up her finger and cocked her head, miming a dog listening closely. “We listened. And we heard...” she paused.

“What? What did you hear?” Bolvar asked, eyes wide. She smiled.

“We heard orcs!”

“Oh no!” he whispered loudly. “They got you!”

“Orcs, sneaking towards us in the darkness, their mail armour clinking and their breaths huffing...”

“What did you do?” Alaric whispered urgently, little hands grasping the sheets.

“Patience, my little one. I’m getting there.” She smiled, putting a hand protectively on his little leg as she spoke. “We heard them, and my first instinct was to jump up with my sword-” She held up her hand as though gripping a hilt, turning to look at Bolvar.

“Oatkeeper!” he cried.

“Too loud!” Alaric said, pushing at Bolvar’s arm.

“Hey!” Bolvar huffed, pushing him back.

Luciana leaned forward and put a hand between them, and they stilled. “Enough, boys,” she said softly. “You’re in bed. No more pushing or playing, or no more stories.”

Bolvar stared at her a moment. “We good,” he said finally.

“Yeah, we gonna be good now,” Alaric agreed.

“Good.” Luciana smiled, and brushed some hair from Alaric’s round face.

“Story?” Bolvar asked.

“Of course,” Luciana said. “So the orcs had found us, but they still couldn’t see us because we were hiding. But when they came out of the trees, I was ready to pull Oathkeeper from the sheath and fight them off. But,” she said. “But, I thought. I knew they could see us, but we couldn’t see anything in the night, without the sun’s light. But, we could hear them moving around, too big to really be sneaky.”

“They fat,” Bolvar teased.

“Bolvar, what has your Father told you about calling people fat?” Luciana asked sternly, looking at him with a slight frown. He slouched down against his pillow, looking at his hands.

“Not to,” he mumbled.

“What?” Luciana asked.

“Not to!” he said, louder.

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t say a bad thing about bodies,” he mumbled.

“Because it’s bad to be mean to people about their bodies,” Luciana said. “Because we don’t look at people’s bodies, we look at their smiles, at their eyes, and at their hearts.”

“That’s where the Light lives,” Alaric piped up, and Luciana looked at him. “That’s what Papa says.”

“Yes, he’s right. The Holy Light talks to us through our hearts, so when we talk to others we should look at their hearts to see what the Light sees. To see what makes them special, and what makes them people. Not their bodies,” she reiterated. “Their hearts. Alright, Bolvar?”

“Yeah,” he said, still slouched over.

“Will you stop being mean about people’s bodies?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“Thank you,” Luciana said, reaching over to brush a hand over his hair. “You’re a very smart boy and I know you can look at people’s hearts like Mama and Papa do. You too, Alaric,” she said, looking to the other twin. “You’re both very smart, just like Mama and Papa, so you can learn everything we did, too. Now,” she said. “How about we continue the story?”

“Yeah!” Bolvar said, perking up.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

“You were at a mine,” Alaric recounted dutifully. “And the moon was little, little, little,” he said, pinching his fingers together and squinting his eyes at them to imitate her.

“And there were orcs!” Bolvar added.

“Yes! That’s right,” Luciana said with a proud smile. “The orcs came, huffing and puffing and looking for us. But I thought, and I planned like a good Knight should. I told my men, as quietly as I could, to wait.”

“And then orcs got you?” Bolvar asked.

“No, not quite,” she chuckled. “Mama’s better than that! No, we waited, and waited. My soldiers were impatient. They wanted to fight - there were enemy soldiers nearby, and they wanted to fight them off. But, I told them to wait. So they did.”

“Like good soldiers listen to Knights!” Bolvar said.

“Yes, and a good Knight listens to their soldiers,” Luciana added, and Bolvar nodded slowly.

“And then orcs got you,” he said wisely.

“And then,” Luciana said quietly with a smile. “Then, the orcs did not get me. I told my soldiers to spread out around the entrance to the mine. I said, let the orcs get closer so we can see them. Let them get closer, so that they’ll think there’s no one there. Let the orcs say, there are no humans here! The mines belong to the Horde now!”

“No!” Alaric gasped.

“No,” Luciana agreed. “Not yet, anyway. I had four soldiers to each side, and I was waiting with them. When the orcs were between us, when they thought they’d won...” She paused, and Bolvar bounced up and down a few times, waiting impatiently. “We struck!” Luciana whispered loudly, her hands darting forward to tickle at her sons. Alaric squealed in laughter and wriggled, and Bolvar made a noise like a peeping chick and froze in a comical expression of surprise. Luciana laughed and gave them a moment, leaving her hands on their chests for a moment. They were so tiny - she could feel their heartbeats under her hands, almost but not quite synced with each other, frail in their little ribs like bird’s bones. She felt like her heart broke at the feeling of their hearts under her palms, and she swallowed thickly and took their hands instead, smiling uneasily when the silence stretched.

“You got them!” Bolvar cried, apparently recovered from the sudden tickling. “You got the orcs, they didn’t get you ‘cause Mama is good!”

“Yes!” Luciana agreed, her smile easing despite the tension still in her gut. “We got them with our swords and our shields. The orcs were caught by surprise! They thought we weren’t even there. And I guess they thought that humans can’t see too well in the dark, anyway.”

“Mama can,” Alaric said. “Grampa can.”

“Yes, but Mama couldn’t see very well in the dark back then,” Luciana said. “But orcs can, and there were ten of them and only nine of us. But of course, we won. Mama never lets her soldiers lose. They were very well trained,” she said. “Mama makes sure all her people are well trained so that they don’t lose or get hurt.”

“Booboos aren’t fun,” Bolvar said somberly.

“Nuh-uh,” Alaric agreed.

“Not at all,” Luciana said, pursing her lips. “It was very important that they were well trained, so that they wouldn’t get booboos, and so that we could surprise the orcs. They weren’t expecting us,” she said.

“Mama is the best!” Bolvar declared.

“That was Amadeus?” Alaric asked. “With Aunty Vic and Uncle Chris and Uncle Kain and...?” he trailed off.

“Yes, that was Amadeus Squadron,” Luciana answered. “Before they were Mama’s Guards.”

“They were the best,” Bolvar said.

“Yes, we like to think so,” Luciana said with a smile that lacked most of its humour. “We fought, and we fought hard that night. Orcs are big and fierce and proud warriors, but we had luck on our side and we fought them off.”

“Yeah!” Bolvar said, shaking his little fist in victory.

“Yeah, indeed,” she laughed, taking his chubby hand and lowering it back to the duvet, still engulfed in her hand. She felt his fingers loosen under the warmth of her palm as she spoke. “We fought them off, and the mines were ours until morning, when reinforcements arrived. That night, before the sun fell, I was given orders,” she said. “I was told, Knight Amadeus. We have taken the mines, but you must hold them until morning. And so, I did.”

“Mama is the best,” Alaric said. “You were the strongest Knight in the army!”

“I almost was,” Luciana said, keeping the melancholy from her voice. She had no right feeling melancholic about this, about her abrupt departure from the army or her introduction to the House of Wrynn. She had no real right being sad about remembering being a Knight, at missing that opportunity in order to be with Anduin - but she did, and she didn’t let it show to her children. She’d talk about it, maybe, with Anduin. Maybe it was time. “But now I’m the strongest warrior in Stormwind.”

“Mama is strong,” Bolvar said softly. “Big and strong.”

“Really big,” Alaric added, looking at her with wide eyes.

Luciana breathed a short laugh, and smiled fondly. “It’s time to sleep, my children,” she said quietly.

“I’m not tired!” Alaric whined.

“You are very tired. If you lie down in your bed, you’ll fall right asleep!” she said.

He hummed, considering it. Finally, he nodded. “Okay,” he said, deciding that she was right. She chuckled and picked him up under the armpits, easily bringing him to her chest so he could lean against her.

“Say goodnight to Bo,” she said.

“Night, Bobo,” Alaric said, waving at his brother as Luciana turned around.

“Night, Lala,” Bolvar replied.

Luciana tucked Alaric into his own bed and like she’d said, he was nearly asleep by the time she was finished. She turned to do the same with Bolvar, but his eyes were already closed, his heartbeat slow and regular. Luciana tucked him in regardless, made sure they’d both be warm enough during the night if the fire in the hearth died down. She added another fat, dry log, and used the poker to shift the embers so it would catch. Her hands, wide and scarred, had a hardly noticeable tremble when she closed the iron gating. She stared at them for a moment, seeing them shake weakly, and she huffed a sigh and straightened. Anduin wouldn’t be back until nine, and he might be held longer than that. Luciana would need that time to think about what she wanted to say.


	42. Flashback

_“Mother’s gone to alert the city guard.” He held the reins while Luciana mounted._

_“Good.” Penny sped up and Luciana followed. They wound through the Cathedral Square, and with a sinking feeling she recognized the corner her aunt had pulled her into to discuss her kissing the Prince. “Oh, it’d better not be,” she muttered, seeing that a pattern was emerging. “It’d better fucking not be. Penny! Go! Go!” she urged. The dog, eager to please his chosen master, tucked his nose to the ground and followed a scent, occasionally trotting or even running to catch the next hint._

_They went around the edge of the Cathedral Square, around the Dwarven, and she sent thanks to whomever and whatever could hear her that Frederic hadn’t been passed through the smoke and fog in the district._

_Penny led her to the Old Town, down into its belly where thieves and criminals watched warily. “Penny, hold!” she said. The dog paused, looking up at her. She dismounted. “I’m willing to give two gold now and two gold after to whoever can look after my horse.”_

_An older man with a few missing teeth stepped up immediately. He had several knives and vials of poison on his person. “Aye, we’ll look after it. Fine beastie.” He indicated three younger men, perhaps his sons, and drew the horse out of the way, into the shadow of a decrepit shop. She handed one of the boys two coins._

_“When I get it back safe I’ll give you the rest,” she said._

_“Aye, Knight Lieutenant,” the boy said, nodding._

_“Penny, go!”_

_She followed the dog through the winding, narrow streets, dodging and shoving at people who got in her way. She felt sick when the dog slowed, and then stopped, backtracking to sniff at a pile of trash. “No.” She shook her head slowly, not wanting to know why the dog was sniffing that leather sack, but knowing she had to look. “No. No, no. Light, if you blessed us you wouldn’t let this...” She kneeled down, reaching out with shaking hands to push Penny away. The dog was whining incessantly. She barely heard it. She pulled the bag. “No. I lost one brother. Don’t... don’t make me lose another. Not Frederic.”_

_The bag stank of blood and piss and something she barely recognized. It tickled her brain, trying to place the smell. Inside the bag was an assembly of tiny body parts and clothes. Luciana was numb, not even feeling anger, when she reached in to pull out a little hand. Penny kept whining, pacing back and forth behind Luciana. A few people had followed her, and were watching. She didn’t care. She pulled out more parts - an arm, a leg, a foot, a shirt. The torso, with the other leg still attached._

_A head. Frederic’s head. His eyes were open, glassy, his mouth parted slightly. She stopped breathing for a moment when she realized, finally, what the smell was. She looked down at his torso. She pulled off the pants. There was semen dried on the inside of his legs and on his buttocks. In his buttocks. The flesh around it was red, torn, blood dried on him. She held the piece of her brother, hardly breathing, numb, staring. It was impossible. But it happened._

_Slowly, she turned to look at the people behind her. One woman had her hands latched over her mouth. She was horrified. The two men flanking her were likewise sickened. “Who,” Luciana said. The woman shook her head. She didn’t know. Luciana turned to the dog. “Penny,” she said, holding out the piece of Frederic. The dog balked, and Luciana growled lowly, like an animal was living in her throat. The beast was rising. Penny sniffed at the dried semen, balked, sniffed again. Luciana tucked the pieces back into the bag, and followed Penny._

_The dog led her through the Old Town in circles, and then into the Trade District. Luciana was garnering stares. She ignored it. None of that mattered. Frederic was in a bag. Frederic had been hurt. Penny knew who did it. Penny was going to find them. Luciana was going to aaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_

Her heart beat wildly, too fast, too hard, it felt like it was going to break out of her ribcage even as she came up, screaming, _roaring_ in rage.

“Luciana!”

She kept roaring, but it turned into a scream even as she kept curling up, forward, trembling violently, into herself with her hands on her head, digging into her scalp like she was trying to rip herself open - it was too much, too _much, there was too much_ -

“Lucy, please! Luciana! It’s enough, stop, stop it, it’s alright, I’m here...” Someone _Varian? Was it Varian who was telling her to calm?_ bent over her back protectively, the heat of their skin _seared her_ it burned like the image of Frederic’s head in her eyes, disconnected like she had been, was, what was he saying? _Luciana_. That was her name.

“Lucy, love, it’s alright. It was just a nightmare. It’s alright. I’m here. Look at me. Lucy? Can you look at me?” the voice, _Anduin_ she recognized and it stopped burning, just stung now but it was still too much, she couldn’t forget it, kept _seeing_ the semen still leaking out it _was not supposed to be there_ I don’t understand she could hear a pained moan. She couldn’t remember breaking anyone - it was her? It must have been.

“Lucy, my love, look at me. There we go. That’s right. It’s alright, it was just a nightmare - you’re safe, I’m safe, the kids are safe, Father’s safe, everyone’s safe and alive. It’s alright. Look - no, look at me. There we go.” His hands were so soft, it was strange to feel that, they were cool on her skin and that was nice, it stopped the smoldering too and it still hurt.

It was dark, too dark, but she could see the Light flowing like a frozen river over her hands, up her arms, tickling her skin that shouldn’t have been able to feel past the scar tissue, the built-in shield that she’d earned for her sins. _His eyes_ she thought _his eyes are too blue. That’s the sky. The earth is not blue. Orcs are not blue. Iron bars and blood and not blue._ “Anduin?” Her voice was soft like his hands, too soft for the world and without Light to Shield them.

“Yes, Lucy,” he whispered, she was still curled forward and he was hovering over her, protecting and she could feel his fingers working at her palms, massaging _like that time on the docks, when I still couldn’t quite see him but he saw me, he saw right to me, the whole time he was looking right at me I am blind._ “It’s me. You’re safe, in the castle. It was just a nightmare.”

She fell silent, staring at his hands washed white in the darkness working at her scars and muscle. Her heart eased out of its berserking _why didn’t I berserk too?_ She inhaled more easily as the snake around her chest eased its constriction. “Anduin,” she murmured.

“Yes, my love. I’m right here.” He kissed her hair, then her forehead, then leaned back and she could see the sky again. He smiled. “You’re safe.” He was Shielding her, and she could feel the Light trickle down her back, sapping the heat from her skin. There was still too much, and she was glad she hadn’t put on a shirt to sleep, it would’ve been too much. More so than usual. “It was just a nightmare,” Anduin murmured.

Luciana breathed in slowly, counted and breathed out. Her heart was back to its resting rate, she could count the heartbeats in her ears and she did for a few minutes while Anduin worked the tension out of her wrists, worked the Light into her shaking strained muscles. The Shield faded slowly as she relaxed, and she exhaled with its last breath. The heat that wavered out of her furnace-heart eased under his Light.

“Alright?” Anduin murmured, leaning down to catch her gaze.

“Mm. Yeah,” she said after a moment, realizing a hum meant little when Anduin was still bleary-eyed and it was probably not yet even four o’clock. “Mm,” she hummed again, because she couldn’t really speak yet.

“Do you want to lie back down?”

“No.” She moved suddenly, got out of bed nearly knocked Anduin over and paced to the washroom. She went in, stared at herself in the mirror - her eyes were amber now and full of sorrow and violence - and then she turned and left, walked into the spare office. She stared out the window, the blinds tied away to the sides, and then looked at the bare desk. She turned and walked out, stopped in the middle of the room.

“Luciana?” Anduin asked. He’d slipped out of the bed to follow her, a housecoat shrugged loosely onto his shoulders. She looked at him. “Do... do you need to do something?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at her oddly for a few moments. “I’ll have someone fetch a few warriors, if you want to wait in the training fields.”

She blinked, looked at the hearth. The fire was low, it would need another log. “Yeah,” she said.

“Put some pants on first,” Anduin said, and his hand touched the small of her back, one of the few places without any shielding - scarring. “It won’t be long.” His touch left her and she felt cold, for once.

She hardly remembered walking out of the room, but she did remember to put some pants on first. The guards looked at her, and three - and Four, on the moon watch - broke away from their lines to walk with her in silence. She stopped in front of the door that held her sons, her _little boys_ and a shudder ripped through her.

“They’re safe and sound, Your Highness. I already checked with the Prince’s Guard,” Four said quietly. Luciana turned and kept walking.

There was no one in the training fields, nothing but snow and trees, when she arrived. It didn’t last long. One warrior, and then two more, and then one more and one more appeared. She was already fighting the first, a man whose height and build matched hers, when the others started arriving. He was not a fury warrior but he had the fury all the same and fought like a demon when she did.

When the sun rose she stumbled back a step and the night elf she had been fighting stepped back as well, bruised to high hell with the light of battle in his eyes. Luciana looked around. Anduin was standing, two guards flanking him at the proper distance, in the shadow of the Keep. His eyes were on her. Varian was there next to him, a third guard a step to the rear. His eyes were on her as well and she could tell he knew exactly what her nightmare had been about. They’d all been about that, recently. Wrathion’s disguise’s scent was on the air, too.

“Your Highness?” the night elf called. Luciana looked at him.

“We’re done,” she said shortly. She looked at the other warriors, saw the one whose arm she had crushed being healed, the one whose ribs she’d broken already up and moving. She looked at the night elf for a moment, but he wasn’t badly injured beyond his shattered nose, so she turned away again, towards Anduin.

Her legs and back were stiff and sore already. When she stopped in front of Anduin he reached up to cup her scarred jaw, blue eyes tracking across her bloodied face. The Light repaired what minor injuries there were, and he sighed softly, breath fogging in the cold morning air. “Alright?” he murmured. She nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Come on. We’ll use the servant’s quarters, they won’t mind. They’re all at work at this time, anyway.”

She followed him with stiff, short steps, Varian following her closely. She could feel his rage swelling and easing, swelling and easing, like the sea. She sniffed the air - honeysuckle and wildflower, spice tea and thick tree sap, dry wood and dry earth, old growth and mussed sheets, Light and something wild. The scents of her family.

Luciana stumbled a step and Anduin caught her as she fell against him, dry-heaving. His hands were hot on her back, frozen as she was from fighting and sweating in the snow. Varian took her weight off Anduin and guided her quickly into a washroom and she vomited what little was left in her stomach into the sink, and then fell to her knees and heaved over the toilet.

Varian kneeled beside her. She knew it was him because she could hear his knees creaking. His hand was hot on her back. “Easy now,” he soothed, rubbing her back slowly. “Relax. Breathe in. Out,” he said. “In. Out.”

She let her forehead rest against the toilet seat. She didn’t care if it was dirty or clean. She just wanted her head to stop spinning.

“She’s dizzy,” Varian murmured, and a moment later Anduin’s hand rested gently on the back of her head. Light filled her head, soothing it and stilling the pounding at her temples. She sighed shakily. “Alright,” Varian said. “I’m going to go and calm down the Guards. They thought you were being murdered when they heard you screaming and everyone’s still on high alert.”

“Tell them we’re sorry to have worried them, but nightmares are only to be expected from someone with battle fatigue,” Anduin murmured.

“I will.” Luciana’s hearing was abnormally sharp, even more so than normal, and she could hear Varian pressing a kiss into Anduin’s hair. _That door needs to be oiled._

Anduin took Varian’s place on the floor with her. Only his left knee made noise. “How do you feel?” he said quietly, brushing his fingers through her hair soothingly. She groaned pathetically. She could almost hear his grimace. “I understand. It must have been a terrible nightmare.”

“Frederic,” she murmured. “It was a flashback.”

“I’m sorry.” His Light warmed her skin where the snow had frozen it, thawed her out slowly, softly. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to. Maybe you want to calm down a bit more, first?” he suggested.

“Mother went to alert the city guard,” Luciana whispered. Anduin’s kept brushing circles into her scalp gently, slowly. “Bann had a horse ready for me. I followed Penny. He was a good dog.”

“He was,” Anduin agreed quietly.

“He brought me to the corner, the back street, where I told Talia I kissed you. I knew something was really wrong, then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Penny led me to a pile of trash. There was a leather bag. I can remember exactly what was in that pile,” she said almost conversationally. “Construction debris. Broken rotted wooden planks. Rotting fruits in the bottom of a wooden crate. Chicken bones. A dead rat. The bag. I opened it.” She paused. Her mouth worked. She concentrated on the feeling of Anduin’s hand in her short hair. “It smelled like blood and piss. I think Foil pissed on it when he was done. He pissed on my baby brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Anduin murmured.

“I pulled out a hand. An arm, a leg, a foot, his favourite red shirt. His torso still had the other leg on it. Then I pulled out his head. He looked like a doll.” Her voice cracked. “With the glassy bead eyes that don’t move. I pulled the pants off his torso.” She swallowed. “I couldn’t place that other smell, at first, but I did. No... no child,” her voice cracked again. “No child has any business smelling like sex. He had...”

Anduin’s hand stilled in her hair. She kept talking.

“He had cum. On his legs. He was red and ripped up. It was still dripping, a bit, out of...” She stopped abruptly. “Out of his anus. It was all over him.” She knew that she didn’t need to relive it. She knew that Anduin would understand. She knew that he would say it wasn’t her fault. But it hurt, still, and she wanted to get the hurt out.

Anduin’s hand resumed its soothing movements in her hair. His Light had faded, surged in again, faded again. She could feel it crackling like static along her spine. It was not the way it usually was. Anduin was holding back his anger.

“It got on my hands. I still feel like it’s there sometimes. It’s disgusting. It makes me want to kill people. Just, anyone. Whoever’s too close to me, if I can smell their breath. Penny didn’t want to but I made him smell the body. I knew that the killer’s scent must have lingered. Enough for a hunting mastiff, anyway. He brought me to the Trade District.”

“To Roger Foil.”

Her hand cracked the porcelain toilet seat it had been gripping. “Yes,” she said. “I was going to shake him until he died. I wanted to tear his intestines out and eat them. I wanted to pull out his lungs and his heart and kidney and crush them in my hands. I wanted to break every bone in his body and then tear out his muscles. I wanted to feel his skull give under my hand and watch his brains bleed out into his hair. I wanted to destroy him like he’d destroyed me.”

“You didn’t.”

“I was going to. Varian stopped me.” She was silent for a moment. “I didn’t want my Mother to find out. I didn’t want my other siblings to know. It would’ve broken them.”

“And let it break you instead?” Anduin murmured. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “Oh, Lucy,” he sighed mournfully. “Why did you keep this from me? Why did Father?”

“I didn’t want them to know,” she whispered brokenly. “He said it was the Horde that hired him. It’s a lie. We all knew it. He did it for gold.” Her stomach tensed and she curled forward, suddenly breathless, as she started to cry. “I didn’t want them to know. He was raped, Anduin. For _money._ That’s the last thing he knew. Not love. Not me, or his parents. He was _violated._ A nine year old child.” She sobbed once, inhaled sharply and choked on it. “And it was my fault, I made that opening, Foil did it to punish me because he heard me telling Talia...”

“Enough,” Anduin said sharply, and she hiccupped when the suddenness of it made her breath catch in her throat. “Luciana, you will _not_ blame yourself for that any longer,” he said. She looked up at him slowly. His eyes were sharp, angry, not at her, but she still felt anxious at it. “It was not your fault. Frederic’s death, his suffering, was the fault of Roger Foil, who was punished justly for his crimes. It was the fault of the world we live in that would drive a man to commit such heinous acts for gold. It was the fault of the world that we live in that someone would think that _people,_ living beings, are their enemies, to the point where they’d pay him to cause chaos, encourage him to... to rape a child.”

“I lost him,” Luciana whispered, tears caught in her throat, and Anduin cupped the back of her neck and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I don’t even know why. He said it was the Horde that hired him, but he was lying. I know he was. Why? I can’t even know why?”

“You lost Frederic,” Anduin said, leaning his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes - they were dry, itchy. “And you still mourn him.”

“He was nine. Only nine,” she murmured. “Someone took him from me and I don’t know why, or who. Not really.”

She felt Anduin’s breath on her lips every few seconds. She felt it as he spoke. “You won’t lose Alaric,” he murmured. “You won’t lose Bolvar. I will _burn_ anyone who tries to take them from us.”

She opened her eyes. His were blazing bright blue, like the lichfire that burned in Mordreth’s eyes. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m scared. What’s going to happen this time? Who’s going to die? I lost Devon. I lost Frederic. I lost George. I lost Dania, and Ophelia, and Bann and Des. Vic’s gone, Jill’s gone, Chris isn’t going to be with me much longer and Enaeon can’t be with me. What else is going to be taken from me?” she asked. “Daniel?” she asked. “Varian? Lars?” her voice broke. “You?”

“No,” Anduin murmured. “You’re mine to keep always, remember?” His thumb brushed the back of her neck, at her hairline, a few times. Slowly, comfortingly. “Death is a part of life, Lucy,” Anduin said quietly. “But it’s not permanent. When we die, we go to the Light, and we join everyone who went before us. And everyone who comes after us will join us soon. Remember that. You will see them all again.”

“I’m not going to the Light,” she choked. “I’m going to the Void.”

“No,” Anduin said simply, and kissed her softly, like she was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her suddenly. “If I have to drag you there myself, you’re going to the Light. Remember O’ros, Luciana. Don’t think about Roger Foil. Don’t worry about Bradley Conwell. Remember O’ros, and how they welcomed you. What they said to you. Remember how you felt then, and concentrate on how you feel now, how my Light touches you. Would my Light soothe you if you were evil?” he asked. “If your heart was Void, would it comfort you?”

His Light moved as he spoke, easing her breathing, warming her, loosening the tight coil in her gut. “No,” she said quietly.

“No,” he confirmed. “But it does. Because you belong in the Light, Luciana. Right now you walk in the darkness, and you may walk there until you die, and I will always look to you and make sure you can see your path - but you belong, as do we all, in the Light.”

He fell silent and she didn’t speak right away. “I miss being a Knight,” she murmured. “I miss things being simple. I never got to go back.”

“Do you regret that?”

“No.” She moved, finally, reached up to touch fingers that shook warningly to his chin. She brushed her fingertips down the line of his jaw, let them slip through his hair he’d let hang loose over his shoulders. “I miss it. I feel like I missed something there.”

“But you gained so much here,” he pointed out.

“I did,” she said, a half-smile curling the side of her mouth that still responded to such soft expressions.

“How do you feel now?” he asked. “Do you want to go back to bed for a while?”

“You read my mind,” she said, letting her hand fall from his hair to his chest, letting it slide down until it fell to rest limp in his lap. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” He took her hand with a gently touch.

“I’m tired of being tired. Why do I have to suffer?” she asked. “Without relief.”

“I don’t know, Lucy. But it won’t last forever, and I will always be with you.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll be here, and I’ll be in the Exodar. In the Barrens.” She swallowed.

“I’ll go,” he said. “I won’t ask you to go back to the place you were captured. You can stay in Stormwind and direct the projects.”

“No. I’m going,” she said. “I’m the Commander in Chief, remember?”

“Not yet.” He smiled for a moment, reached up and brushed a bit of sweat-matted hair away from her forehead. “And not forever.”

“But I will be. And you’ll be High King. No, our plan is a good one. We’ll stick to it. I just...” she swallowed again. It stuck in her throat. “Maybe I should pick up a... a paramour. One that smells like you. And a tank. Vic said I needed a tank. Until the Alliance resettles after our coronation and someone can be found to free me for my other duties as Queen, I’ll be Commander in Chief of Stormwind. And that means I’ll need a tank.”

“We can go to the Warrior’s Conclave soon, if you want,” Anduin said with a teasing smile. “And you can try not to get caught up in it like you did last time.”

“I was only an hour late,” she protested with a weak smile.

“To our family dinner,” Anduin added, and then he laughed breathlessly and kissed her gently, like he was savouring it, ignoring the fact that she’d vomited not long before. “Let’s get back to bed for a few hours,” he said. “Father probably didn’t tell the Seneschal anything so that we would have to. I’ll talk to him, and then come back to you. Okay?”

“Okay.” She got to her feet shakily, but she managed. She leaned against Anduin, who supported part of her weight as they walked through the emptied halls of the servant’s quarters. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too, Luciana.”


	43. Snow Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ain't dead, just wishing I was sometimes.

The room was full of the sound of scribbling pens and rustling paper. Over it was layered the sound of quiet giggles and the tapping of wood against composite, a new gnomish material that could take on many levels of rigidity.

Luciana glanced over at the twins - Bolvar had his favourite composite toy knight in his left hand, the other holding an elekk plushie. Alaric was countering them with a red whelpling plushie.

She looked up at Anduin. He was hunched over his work, writing quickly and smoothly, a slight frown on his handsome face. She looked back down at her own work. Her writing had devolved in the past hour into barely legible angry scrawling. She sighed loudly and set her pen down, leaning back in her chair. A moment later, Bolvar was at her knee.

“Up?” he asked, his blue eyes wide and pleading. She smiled and opened her arms, pushing away from the desk with her knee. Her son scrambled into her lap, wrapping his arms around her neck. As he tried to climb her like a cat up a tree, Alaric joined him. The two clumsily made space in her lap for each other, and when they settled Bolvar was leaning on her shoulder, sitting on the arm of her chair, and Alaric was on her thigh with his dragon plushie still in his hands.

“Did you get bored?” Luciana asked, wrapping her arm around Alaric securely, placing her other hand on Bolvar’s back. If they fell it would be a short trip, but it might still be painful.

“Yeah, a bit,” Bolvar answered, slapping his hand squarely on her jaw scars and rubbing at them clumsily. She chuckled and leaned her head away. When the scars were made unavailable, Bolvar instead shoved his hands into her short, shaggy brown hair and played with it instead.

“Do you feel like going for a walk?” Luciana asked. “There’s still plenty of snow outside. We could build a snowman!”

“I wanna build a snow dragon,” Alaric said.

“We can do that, too,” Luciana smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. It flopped back a moment later. “You need a haircut, kiddo.”

“Nuh-uh,” Alaric said, shaking his head jerkily. “I wanna get long hair like Papa.”

“Papa is tall enough for long hair. Maybe when you’re taller you can grow it out. But I don’t want you getting your hair caught in things like Papa does.”

“I do not,” Anduin said from across the room. Luciana grinned lopsidedly, her scars not allowing for much else.

“You did, in fact, get your hair caught in the hinges on the bathroom door last night, and I distinctly remember having to get up and untangle you.”

“I did not,” he said, but his ears were reddening and he was smiling, and Luciana laughed.

“Of course you didn’t, lovely husband of mine. Alright, little ones. Let Mama get up, we’ll get dressed and then we’ll go build a snow dragon. Go and tell your caretakers you want to get dressed for snow.”

“Okay!” Bolvar said, and tried to get down before Alaric, which resulted in Alaric getting kicked in the arm and crying, and hitting Bolvar’s leg in return, and Luciana had to calm the two before letting them go.

“They’re growing so fast,” Anduin said, watching them run through the passageway into their bedroom. He looked up at Luciana as she approached, letting her gently pull his head against her stomach. His eyes, when he looked up at her, were soft as his slow smile. She gently brushed her fingers through his hair, cupping the side of his head with her other hand.

“They’re not even four yet, my light,” she said, leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. She felt his hand wander up the back of her thigh, catching at the crease between thigh and buttock and resting there. “It’ll slow down, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Anduin said. “I’m enjoying every moment of it.”

Luciana sighed heavily. “How are your plans going?” she asked. “I was ahead yesterday but I feel like we’re going to start lagging. Everyone’s prepped and ready but we need to hear the announcement before we can start moving, and some of them are getting antsy.”

“We’re doing a bit better on my end,” he answered, turning his head and reaching over to grab a paper from his desk. It was a letter, folded in three and then allowed to relax after a long rest in its envelope. “This is from a representative of the Explorer’s League. I told them we - that is, you and I - had tentative ideas for a University. They jumped on it like a kobold on a candle.”

“Good,” Luciana said, grey eyes quickly scanning the letter. “That’s a good start. Gives it a bit of credibility.”

“Mm. I’ve also started gathering a collection for the library.”

“Where are you storing it? We won’t open that for at least a year.”

Anduin smiled. “There are all sorts of nooks and crannies in this castle that no one really remembers. I spent most of my childhood trying to find new ones.”

“Running from your responsibilities?” Luciana said, smiling. “How negligent. I’m not sure we should have someone like that at the helm of Stormwind.”

“Well, he’s got someone like you at his side, Sir Knight Captain Princess Luciana Amadeus Wrynn,” he teased. “With more names than a registrar.”

“Hush, you,” she scolded, giving the end of his ponytail a tug. Anduin only laughed lightly in response. “I’m going to get dressed. I’m sure the boys are trying to drag their guards outside as we speak.”

“It would only be our fault,” Anduin said.

“No, it would be your fault, Mister I-Must-Find-Adventure. Don’t think they get their insubordination from me.”

“Oh, hush you.” He copied her scolding tone, but his smile ruined the effect.

She leaned down and gave him a lingering kiss. “You’ll have to find something else for my tongue to do if you want me hush, my lord,” she whispered, and was duly satisfied when his ears reddened and his smile fell into a more serious expression of consideration.

“I’ll think of something,” he promised quietly, eyes roving her face.

Luciana dressed quickly - the twins had already been brought outside by their caretakers and a trio of guards, excited as they were. Luciana stopped by the kitchens on her way to the back door, picking up five small vials of food colouring. They were each smaller than her thumb, but would mix well with the snow. Two of the kitchen staff passed her on the way to the lift, one wheeling a trolley full of food. “For the King?” Luciana asked, and the servants immediately slowed to a halt and bowed.

“Yes, Princess,” the one wheeling the trolley said. “It’s his lunch.”

Luciana eyed a tray, lifted a cover off one of them and grinned. Half a chicken lay on a bed of spiced potatoes and greens, and the scent of garlic wafted up from it deliciously. She reached out and snapped the leg off the chicken with a twist of her wrist, and when she heard the tiniest gasp she’d ever heard from the other servant, she laughed warmly. “Just tell him I wanted a snack,” she said. “He’ll understand.”

“Your Highness,” the servant who’d gasped said absently, with wide eyes.

“And if he’s upset - he won’t be, don’t worry,” she soothed when the servant squeaked. She was a tiny little thing, probably only sixteen and still very unsure. “But if he grumbles, tell him I have three sons I need the energy to worry about, since he dumped his on me. That’ll make him laugh.”

“Princess,” the other servant said, bowing their head as low as they could past the fact that they had their hands firmly on the handlebar of the trolley and a grin on their face. “C’mon, Mirelda, it’s almost one.”

“Right!” The servant jumped slightly, then reached out and readjusted the cover Luciana had apparently not placed properly. After a moment the two were off in the direction of the lift. It moved slowly, and Luciana preferred to take the stairs, but she could understand why they didn’t want to carry the trolley up three flights.

Luciana heard the dog before she saw it. Paws thudded against the carpet and claws clicked on the stone as the dog jogged towards her. She looked down just as Shauna came bounding around the corner, struggling to find purchase on the stone floor. “Hello, puppy!” Luciana crooned, crouching down to pet her dog. Shauna curled into the curve of her legs at a good pace, nearly knocking her human over in excitement. “No, no,” Luciana said, holding the chicken leg out of reach when Shauna went to sniff it. “This is mine. Not yours.” Luciana straightened after a moment and patted her thigh. “C’mon, let’s go outside in the snow.”

Shauna huffed when she was excited, and she huffed all the way outside, galloping to the door and then back to Luciana. She was impatient with the slow pace her human had taken. Still, when Luciana opened the door, Shauna was not upset at all. The dog burst outside, immediately flopping into a snow bank and then wriggling out of it and into another. She bound out of that and into the next one with stiff legs, like a deer.

“Puppy!” Luciana heard Alaric crow. Shauna’s head poked out of the snow, her ears perked up in typical boxer terrier fashion, and then she bounded over to Alaric like she was on springs, bodily knocking him down. He only laughed and petted her with his mitted hands.

“Shnana!” Bolvar cried, struggling through the snow that reached his waist to join them. He fell twice, but persevered and made his way to his brother.

Luciana waded through the snow easily with her much longer, stronger legs, and picked Bolvar up to carry him the rest of the way. He eagerly reached out to pet Shauna, who had decided to sit still for a few moments to allow it. Luciana gave the dog a few pats on the rump. “Good girl,” she praised, and Shauna’s crooked tail wagged happily.

As per Alaric’s request, they built a snow dragon. It was rather flat, and Alaric surmised that it was simply laying down for a nap. “What colour shall it be?” Luciana asked when its body was formed, pulling the food dye out of her coat pockets. “Red? Blue? Yellow? Green? Purple? Or orange?”

“All of them!” Bolvar declared, and fell against her knees trying to reach up and grab the vials.

“Careful with these,” Luciana warned. “They’re glass. They’ll pour slowly, but don’t drop them.”

“I got it!” Bolvar said impatiently, and took the green the moment she offered her selection.

“I want blue!” Alaric piped up, and Luciana carefully stepped over the dragon’s crooked arm to hand over the blue dye.

Shauna nearly ruined the sculpture, but one of the caretakers Mateo stepped in and righted it before it upset Alaric. 

Luciana stepped back for a few minutes, watching them work. She gave the rest of the dye to Sandra, whose smile was made only brighter by the deep lines in her face.

“Your Highness,” a Royal Guard said quietly from her left. It interrupted her time with the boys, and Luciana hoped for the sake of whoever had caused it that it was important. “A woman named Dania is here to see you.”

Luciana considered the guard for a moment. “My sister Dania, or another Dania?”

“Er, your sister, I believe,” the guard answered awkwardly.

“Bring her in, then.”

“Princess.” The guard saluted, and Luciana turned back to the dragon snow sculpture team. They’d made the snout purely red, and purple splotches decorated its left wing and body from when Bolvar had tripped in the snow and sent the dye bottle flying over the entire thing in a dramatic, colourful arc. Thankfully, Alaric liked purple, and there were no fights over it.

Luciana waited by the flank of the castle, shielded from the bright afternoon sun. Alaric came up to her on three different occasions for hugs, and each time she crouched down and held him close. She’d make sure to give Bolvar a hug after so that he wouldn’t feel left out, but while colouring the snow dragon he seemed too occupied to even notice that his brother was getting more hugs than he.

“Your Highness, Lady Dania Amadeus,” a Royal Guard announced, and Luciana half-turned and waited. The door to the castle was pulled open by the guard who’d spoken, and Dania stepped through with two guards flanking her. “Lady Dania Amadeus, Her Royal Highness Princess Luciana.”

“Hello sister,” Luciana said quietly, and Dania smiled and laughed and stepped forward to hug her. Luciana was much taller than her and easily engulfed her, and Dania only squeezed her all the harder for it.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Dania said against Luciana’s coat. She stepped back after a moment, her eyes shining with tears. “It’s good to see you again, Luciana.”

“And you, Dania,” Luciana replied, laying her arm over Dania’s shoulders to keep her close, and warm. “You know, not many could get away with calling on the Princess without prior notice.”

“Obviously her baby sister can.”

“What kind of sister would I be if I ignored you?” Luciana said, looking down at Dania. “While I’d prefer you didn’t make it a habit, as I don’t need others thinking they can get away with it, I don’t mind the occasional visit.”

“Maybe I’ll set up a portal location in your chambers so I can pop in whenever I want,” Dania teased.

“Not in the bedroom. You might pop in on something that will embarrass my husband.”

“Luciana!” Dania scolded with a smile. “My, you’re daring.”

“I’m not easily embarrassed, sister dear,” Luciana said with a crooked grin. Her eyes were on Bolvar, however, who had noticed that his mother had a guest and was clumsily making his way other to them through the snow. “Why should I be? My body is my tool.”

“You’re going to break it,” Dania said softly, so softly even Luciana had a hard time hearing her. “If you push yourself too hard. Don’t. Don’t let yourself break it. You won’t be able to fix it.”

Luciana glanced at Dania briefly, returning her attention to Bolvar. “Do you mean while I’m... away?”

“If you need to stop, stop. Don’t push yourself.”

“I’ll remember that, Dania. Thank you.”

“Of course. What kind of sister would I be if I ignored you?” Dania said, her smile returning to her face and making her fine features bright again.

“Hello Bolvar,” Luciana said when Bolvar was a few short steps away.

“Hi Mama,” he said, looking up at her. “Who’s that?” He pointed his entire hand at Dania, eyes curious.

“This is Mama’s sister,” Luciana answered. “Dania.”

“Hi Aunty,” Bolvar said, waving. “I gonna hug you but after I get through the snow.”

“Okay,” Dania laughed, and she waited patiently while he struggled through the final short stretch. When he reached her he latched onto her leg, turning his head to look at Luciana. “Hello Prince Bolvar,” Dania said, leaning over a bit so she could place her hand on the back of his head. “How are you today?”

“Good.”

“That’s good,” Dania said.

Bolvar let go of her leg and toddled to Luciana, his steps made clumsier than usual because of his snow suit. “Up?” he asked, reaching up, and Luciana obliged by sweeping him into the air. He squealed happily and laughed, holding his arms out while she swung him up. He settled easily against her chest, and she kissed his chubby cheek, her mouth curving of its own accord into the widest smile it could manage.

“I love you,” Luciana cooed.

“I love you Mama!” Bolvar replied happily, putting his mitts on her face. They were cold and wet against her cheeks and she grinned toothily, bringing him close so she could nuzzle his cheek. “You tickle!” he giggled.

“Not as much as Papa’s scruffy, though, huh?” Luciana said, giving his other cheek a kiss.

“Yeah, he really has a lot of tickle,” Bolvar agreed.

Alaric was already halfway to Luciana, Sandra and Mateo standing in the snow and watching while he floundered. “Do you want a hand, My Prince?” Sandra called, worried.

“No!” Alaric said insistently, like he was irritated. They’d already asked him three times - Luciana had heard them past Bolvar’s giggling. “I got it!”

Luciana watched while he approached. She could feel Dania’s eyes on her. When Alaric reached them, Luciana shifted Bolvar to her right shoulder and looked down at the other child. “Hello, little one,” she greeted.

“Hi Mama. Who are you?” he said, looking at Dania.

“I’m Dania,” she responded.

“Dania is Mama’s little sister,” Luciana said.

“Oh, like Yaya,” Alaric said, and gave Dania’s leg a few pats before turning and holding his arms up to Luciana. “Up,” he said plaintively, and she smiled and stooped down to scoop him up.

“Oof, you two are getting heavy!” she teased. “You know what that means?”

“Papa says not to say a mean thing about a body!” Bolvar said sternly.

“I’m saying that you’re growing!” Luciana laughed. “I’m not being mean at all. When little kids like you grow, you get heavier. Someday you might be as heavy as Mama.”

“Mama is too big,” Alaric said. “Maybe we will be... be heavy like Papa, instead.”

“Maybe,” she agreed.

“I won’t keep you long,” Dania said softly. There was something like sadness in her eyes. Nostalgia, Luciana identified. “I’m glad you found a family you could keep, Luciana.”

“Me too, Dania.” Luciana shifted Alaric so she could look at her sister. “I miss you guys, you know. I miss when things were simple.”

“It’s always like that when we grow up,” Dania told her, reaching out to gently place her gloved hand on Luciana’s arm. “But we make new times. Luciana,” Dania said.

“Yes?”

“Answer the call.”

With that, Dania leaned up and Luciana automatically leaned down from years of conditioning so that her shorter sibling could kiss her cheek. “Bye,” Alaric said, and Bolvar leaned over Luciana’s shoulder, hands dangling on her back, so he could say goodbye as well.

“Goodbye, little Princes,” Dania said with a sad smile. “It was nice to meet you.” She waved a little and Bolvar immediately waved back from his perch on Luciana’s shoulder. They watched Dania leave, and when the door shut and it was suddenly quiet, Luciana sighed quietly.

“Let’s go see how our dragon is turning out,” she said.

“Shh!” Alaric said. “He is asleep-ing.”

“She!” Bolvar said.

“He!”

“Does it matter?” Luciana interrupted before they could fight.

“No,” Bolvar said. “I guess not.”

“Not really, huh?” Luciana said.


	44. The Earl of Stonecairn

It was late that same night when a Royal Guard knocked on the door to the antechamber, disturbing Alaric who’d been dozing contentedly on Luciana’s chest. He stirred, and whined a complaint.

“Hush now,” Luciana crooned quietly, thumb brushing the back of his head. “Lay back down.”

He put his head back against her chest and sighed as heavily a little child could. She smiled softly. “Prince Anduin, Princess Luciana,” the guard called. “Lord Silverstone is here to see you.”

Luciana’s smile turned into a frown very quickly. “How dare he?” she said lowly. Anduin was sitting on the couch opposite her armchair with Bolvar’s head pillowed on his thigh, a book in his hands. He looked up at her, something just shy of a scowl on his face. “Alaric, Mama’s gonna put you with Papa for a bit, okay?

“Kay,” Alaric murmured, or something close to the word. Luciana gently picked him up and transferred him, and then without bothering to dress properly, she paced silently to the door.

She opened it herself, startling the guard just beyond it. “Your Highness,” the guard said, recovering quickly. “Lord Silverstone recently took over after displacing his father, the previous Lord Silverstone, as Earl of Stonecairn. He’s also taken his place in Parliament Major. He’s waiting in the hall.”

“Why is he here at this hour?” Luciana said lowly, closing the door quietly behind her. “How dare he call on us like this?”

“He wouldn’t say, Princess,” the guard said apologetically, bowing her head slightly. Luciana sighed.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “Find out what he wants, though. I’m not going to answer like a dog to a whistle.”

“Your Highness.” The guard turned smartly and went to follow her order.

Luciana waited in the antechamber. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her strong chest. The guard returned to the antechamber only a few minutes later. “He says that he wishes to show his loyalty to the state,” she said. “And his willingness to follow... the new order,” she said hesitantly. “He would not say what that meant.”

“And is he aware of how suspicious that sounds?” Luciana asked dryly. “I’ll see him, then. Not the Prince. Have him brought to a meeting room. I’ll be there shortly. Two guards inside with him, two outside. Make sure the wallcrawlers are there.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard said, saluting sharply.

Luciana rejoined her family in the bedroom, sighing quietly. “You’re answering him?” Anduin asked as she approached the hearth. She moved around the back of the couch, leaning down to kiss his lips once.

“Yes. He’s either here to swear fealty to us, or to try and kill us. Either way, I’ve survived worse.”

Anduin didn’t laugh. “Then have him wait, if you’re suspicious.”

“I feel like getting it out of the way,” Luciana responded. “Besides, better me than you.”

“Not necessarily,” Anduin said. “I can Shield myself where you’d just take the hit. Why be wounded at all?”

“Because your death, dismemberment, or other injury would affect the kingdom far more than mine. They’re used to seeing me beat up,” Luciana said. “But you’re their treasured Prince healer. Their once and future King. Seeing you injured, and right before our ascension is announced, would shake them badly.”

Anduin sighed quietly, and she could hear the argument in it. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he said.

“Sure,” she responded, recognizing that he didn’t want to upset the twins, especially not so close to bedtime. Technically they were past bedtime, but they were dozing quite happily on their father’s lap and neither he nor Luciana wanted to disturb them.

When she was dressed Luciana bent over to kiss Bolvar’s cheek and Alaric’s forehead, as that was what was available. She kissed Anduin softly, lingered a moment, and murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he responded just as quietly, just as sweetly. “Don’t be long.”

“I won’t be.”

She chose to wear simple, understated clothes, as it was late in the day and she didn’t feel like dressing up. What she made sure to wear was the silver wolf’s head pendant Anduin had given her. She’d ask him if she could bring it to the Exodar with her - he wouldn’t say no, she was certain, but she would ask for the favour anyway. It was the piece from his wedding outfit. Whenever she saw it, or absently touched it where it lay over her chest, she was reminded of that day. She also made sure to wear the signet ring of Wrynn, signifying her as a Royal. She had quite a few tokens now. The old coin Bann had given her years ago, the fragment of shell from Bold Karasshi, her dog tags, her wedding and signet rings, and the pendant. She would need to find a place to safely hide them while she was away.

The Royal Guard who’d announced Lord Silverstone, an old Sea Wolf named Narissa with a magically constructed prosthetic eye, showed Luciana the way to the meeting room the guards had chosen for the impromptu visitor. Luciana took a moment outside the door to orient herself for a courtly meeting, and nodded. The door was opened for her, and she stepped inside, all senses working. She sniffed at the air, listened for whispers and felt for magic, inspected the room with her sharp eyes like silver daggers and inhaled through her mouth to taste for airborne toxins. Nothing. She fell into parade rest.

She let her eyes rest on Lord Silverstone the younger. He was quite a measure more handsome and well-kept than his father had been in his later years. He had the same whipcord build, but he’d lowered his nose considerably from the high place he’d usually held it at. “My Princess,” he greeted, bowing lowly and sweeping his arms out to the sides. Such a gesture wasn’t normally used anymore, but he’d thrown it in to add an extra layer, likely one of apology. Luciana waited, and he spoke while holding his bow. “I offer my deepest apologies for disturbing you at this late hour, but I feel I could not wait any longer once I had made the decision.”

He straightened and eyed her warily for a moment. When she didn’t speak, only watched him, he continued.

“I am Lord Cadrian Silverstone, Earl of Stonecairn, taking over after my father, the late Lord Silverstone. I have assumed his position in Parliament Major, and taken on the according duties to the court, the Crown, and the kingdom.” She heard him swallow. “In these past few years, I have felt the static growing in the air. There are new orders about, new services geared towards a different kingdom than what is today. There is change coming, and I can only reasonably assume that it is you and the Prince who will be at its helm. Therefore,” he said, voice quieting. “Therefore, I am here to offer my unquestionable loyalty to you and through you to him as well. I will be a servant in your coming ventures, whatever they may be.”

“Bold of you to say that when you don’t know what you’re volunteering for,” Luciana said, letting her voice take a lower register. Her courtly voice, Varian liked to teased. She raised her chin. “For all you know, we could be planning on surrendering to the Horde.”

“Then I will... remain loyal,” he finished. “You and the Prince have the capabilities to see Azeroth into a good future, of that I am certain. If you believe that... surrendering to the Horde,” he said with some difficulty, “is best, then I will not question it, only do my best to ensure my people are taken care of.”

His heart didn’t skip, though it was a bit fast. Luciana knew it could reasonably be attributed to the fact that he was for all intents and purposes alone with a berserker. The two of her very loyal personal guards who were present wouldn’t interfere. “We’re not surrendering,” she said, waving the notion away with her hand. “Stormwind doesn’t surrender. But we can’t continue on this path of war we’ve taken.”

Cadrian looked up, his eyes bright. “Exactly!” he agreed enthusiastically. “It’s not sustainable. We hardly survived the Iron Horde incursion, and only because of some foolhardy adventurers - of both sides, mind - who willingly stepped into probable death. We must find another way.” His teeth clicked in his mouth and he looked down. “Apologies for my outburst, Princess,” he said quietly, lowering his head in what was effectively a bow.

“No need,” Luciana said dismissively. “I do wonder, though, what you did with your father.”

“He’s been relocated to a serene family estate in Redridge,” Cadrian responded, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “He’s always complained about the coolness of the air in the city, so we thought it best to give him a comfortable retirement in a more... temperate setting.”

Luciana’s lips quirked up a bit on the left. “Do you know,” she started, “what he said to me on my wedding day?”

“What’s that?” Cadrian asked, now wary.

“He told me in short order that women were the weaker gender when standing next to men,” she said. “He believed that giving the Prince a dress , a feminine thing, was an insult, as it was dressing him as a woman. I shut him up, of course,” she said conversationally. “To insult the Prince, even then, would be a grave mistake, and to try and insult him by calling him a woman?” She laughed lowly. “What would be the point in that?”

Cadrian wisely took the few moments she allowed him to take when she gave the room another visual sweep. “I would apologize for my father’s words and atrocious behaviour,” he said. “But I know that by now, there would be no point to it. You and the Prince look to the future, not the past, and so I will instead say this - if it is within my power to aid the people of Stormwind find a path that will bring us to a safe and prosperous future, it will be done. By my power, my prestige, my influence or my humiliation, it will be done.” 

“You willingly offer your humiliation?” Luciana asked amusedly.

“The kingdom is far more important than my pride, Your Highness,” Cadrian said before kneeling, bowing his head. “If you find any value in it, then I beg you to take my oath of fealty.”

“Why would I do that?” Luciana asked. She wasn’t yet satisfied with what he’d offered. Nobles by nature were a tricky sort - she would know. It was necessary to survive in the court and to navigate the laws and loopholes for the advantage and to further one’s goals. She herself was not innocent of the habits of nobility.

“I will not see Stormwind fall,” Cadrian said. “I have been observing you and the Prince for years, Your Highness. I’ve seen a powerful will in the both of you, and a strong love and respect for your people. I believe that this, that whatever vision of the future you have both seen, is the way forward. For all of Azeroth.”

“Some would disagree quite strongly with you.”

“Let them. My eyes were opened when I saw my father nearly destroy himself to spite what he perceived to be an enemy - but, they were in fact another human, another citizen of Stormwind. What right do we have calling each other enemy?” he said bitterly, laying out all his cards for her to see. To convince her of his honesty. “The Horde is the enemy, not other people of the Alliance. And yet...” he trailed off. “And yet, when you were tortured... pardon me, Your Highness,” he added apologetically for bringing it up. “You did not seek retribution. You forgave them. There is, I strongly believe, a lesson to be learned from you. And I am not a fool. If there is a lesson to be learned, I would like to learn it. Perhaps not of the old generation, but many of my peers of the House of Nobles surely feel the same way.”

Luciana eyed him, considered him, let the silence stretch on. Finally, she spoke. “Remain where you are,” she said, intending him to remain on his knee. He did, even as she shut the door behind her. 

“Your Highness?” Narissa asked.

“Tell the Prince I think he should be here as well,” Luciana said. “Make sure the twins are in bed before you speak to him. It’s past their bedtime.”

“Princess.” Narissa nodded sharply before turning and hurrying away.

Anduin joined her shortly, brow furrowed. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“Lord Cadrian Silverstone appears to be interested in taking part in our plans,” Luciana murmured, leaning in to keep her words quiet. The guards would not purposefully eavesdrop, she was sure, and the number of rumours originating from the Royal Guards had ever been slight at worst, but it was better to be safe. “He wants to swear fealty to us.”

“Interesting,” Anduin murmured. “And you want to accept it?”

“Yes. The first of many, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.” He smiled playfully at her, and then schooled it into a more serene, serious, and Princely - no, Kingly expression.

He entered first. Luciana noted that Cadrian was still kneeling - humility, indeed. “Cadrian Silverstone, Lord Earl of Stonecairn and member of Parliament Major,” Anduin said smoothly.

“Prince Anduin,” Cadrian said, keeping his head down. “I wish to swear fealty and loyalty to the House of Wrynn, under the command of King Anduin and Queen Luciana.”

Anduin glanced at Luciana, and she kept her expression neutral. It was his Father that they were displacing - she would let him decide how to react to that. “Then come,” Anduin said, eyes still on Luciana. After a moment, he turned to Cadrian. “Kneel to us, to the Crown of Stormwind, and swear to uphold it, and to uphold our reign.”

Cadrian stood, did not dare to meet either of their eyes, and took the few steps forward he would need to kneel directly in front of Anduin. He did kneel, and took the hand that held the signet ring of Wrynn that Anduin offered. He pressed a kiss to the ring, and then bowed his head, still holding Anduin’s hand loftily as was custom in a swearing-in. “I, Earl Cadrian of Stonecairn, Lord of the Noble House of Silverstone, swear by all that is under the power of my House to serve loyally and faithfully the Royal House of Wrynn. Anduin, King, I do swear to uphold your honour, to follow your rule, to respect your word, and to spread your order to all citizens of Stormwind. I will serve as Earl on your Parliament Major, which works to advise and uphold your rule and to direct your Parliament Minor. Whether by my life or death, I will serve you, and see your plans realized,” he said, adding a line of his own making to the traditional oath. “This I do swear, as Lord and as citizen, under the Light.”

“I accept your oath,” Anduin said quietly.

Cadrian stood, shifted to Luciana, and kneeled again. She offered her right hand, rough and scarred and decorated only with the signet ring. He repeated the oath, word for word, and added - “Let none challenge your right to rule as Queen.”

“I accept your oath,” Luciana said, sharing a look with Anduin. Who would dare to question her right to rule? It would have to be investigated. Apparently, there were still whispers in the kingdom. “Stand.”

Cadrian stood and took a respectful step back, his eyes staying somewhere around the level of her chin. He was nearly her height, she noted absently. “Now you must swear to silence of all that has transpired tonight,” Anduin said. “Until we are crowned, this night will be thought of as no more than a dream.”

“I understand,” Cadrian said, the excited light returning to his eyes. “I do so swear.”

“Good,” Anduin said, and then he smiled and the room seemed to lighten. “Now that that’s out of the way, what have you heard?”

Cadrian looked up, utterly startled at the sudden change of atmosphere. Luciana chuckled, and kissed Anduin’s cheek. “I’m going to make sure the boys actually stayed in bed this time,” she said, and Anduin turned to her.

“Alright. I’ll take care of things here.” She knew he would question Cadrian on his second addition to the oath - “may none challenge your right to rule as Queen.” If that faction was going to be an issue, they had to know.

Luciana glanced at Cadrian before she shut the door. He had a nearly comical expression of bewilderment and surprise on his face. The two Royal Guards, who’d faded into the background during the giving of oaths, had amused grins on their faces.

The guards outside the door were obviously curious. “When you rejoin with the others,” she murmured, “remind them of their oaths of silence. This could be very dangerous for me and Anduin, but also for our children. The wallcrawlers will report to Shaw and I doubt they’re inclined to sharing gossip.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Narissa said firmly. There was a comforting intensity in her eyes. “We are Royal Guards. We will not let any harm befall you.”

Luciana looked down to her - it not an uncommon thing for Luciana to have to do. “This goes beyond that,” she murmured. “It won’t matter soon. I just need you all to keep your tongues for a few months. Then, the danger will pass. But this will be a true test of loyalty, not to the House of Wrynn, but to Anduin and myself.”

“Your Highness, you are the House,” the other guard piped up from the door. Bernard, Luciana identified. “Don’t worry about a thing, Princess,” he said with a firm nod. “You and the Prince, you’re good folk. None of us have ever seen any reason to doubt that. We’re loyal for good reason.”

Luciana smiled softly. “That’s good to hear, Bernard,” she said, and he inhaled sharply and puffed his chest out in pride. She’d have to start calling them by name more often, if this was how they kept reacting. “You too, Narissa. Thank you. It’s good to know that my family is in good hands.”

“Only for the best for the rulers of the rest,” Narissa quipped. It was an old joke among the Royal Guard that the Royal House only ruled the rest of the kingdom, as the Royal Guards were only ones who had full legal right to overpower a Royal in times of need. Luciana smiled privately to herself, remembering Anduin’s tale of nearly being kidnapped by Royal Guards when he’d been exploring Pandaria against the explicit order of his King and Father. “Go and see to the young Princes, Your Highness,” Narissa said with a bow of her head to show respect even with such casual speech. “We’ll take care of things here.”

“I know you will,” Luciana said softly, giving Narissa’s upper arm a pat as she passed by.


	45. Dhavid

The room was quiet around her. The only noise came from the grandfather clock in the far corner, ticking away. Luciana straightened the report on the current state of Auberdine’s ruins that she’d been reviewing, and set it down on the desk.

A moment later, the guard she’d heard approaching opened the door. “Your Highness, Scourgelord Mordreth’s messenger has arrived.”

“Bring them in.”

“Princess,” the guard confirmed.

A death knight entered the room, abnormally tall like the rest of them. She was not wearing a helm, and her runeblade was not at her hip. She bowed her head briefly to Luciana. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice echoing as though through a metal tube, much like Mordreth’s.

“Your name?”

“Enoxin.”

“Report,” Luciana said, leaning back in her chair.

“We tested our runeblades on the worgen. They work.”

Luciana blinked. “Anything else to report?” she prompted.

“Mordreth believes it will take a fair number of us.”

“Understood. Is Mordreth still in Darkshire?”

“Yes.”

“Have him stay there. I’ll head out to meet him. It won’t be long.”

“Your Highness.” Enoxin bowed her head again.

“Dismissed,” Luciana said, realizing that the death knight was waiting for her dismissal. With it, Enoxin turned and left in silence. “Kenid,” she called, and one of her Royal Guards came to stand in the doorway. “Find me a mage who can open a portal to Darkshire. The courtyard, two hours.”

“Your Highness.” He saluted before turning to follow her orders.

Luciana moved quickly through the castle, expertly avoiding people by using the numerous back ways and servant’s passages that she’d memorized over the years. It didn’t take long to reach her chambers. Anduin wasn’t there, occupied as he was with business of his own. She did stop by to see Varian, briefly.

“What is it?” Varian asked when she entered through the passageway. “You’ve got a look on your face like you found twenty gold.”

“I’m going to Darkshire,” she said with a crooked grin. “I do believe I’ve found something even better than twenty gold. Death knights,” she said.

“What about them?” Varian asked.

“They need to sate their runeblades regularly. We don’t always have a war to throw them into. But we still need something they can use - a tap that just won’t shut off, no matter how hard you twist.”

“The ferals,” Varian said, smiling slowly. “You’re going to sick them on the feral worgen.”

“Two problems solved, and we can familiarize the death knights with the living again, and get the living used to seeing death knights in a more positive light.”

“You’re a genius, Lucy,” Varian praised, smiling proudly at her from his desk.

“I know,” she said, grinning briefly. “I’ve got to prepare, though. This isn’t going to be an easy move.”

“Nothing ever is,” Varian sighed. “You said you’re personally going to Darkshire? Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked. “You’re not in a position anymore where it’s proper to do everything yourself. You should be using your subordinates by now.”

“I know,” she said. “But Darkshire is something of a personal project. I’d like to close it on my own. I can leave it to others after I’ve done this.”

Varian nodded slowly. “Understandable. Just don’t let this habit linger too long,” he warned. “You’re a Royal, not a Knight.”

With a grimacing smile, she nodded once and turned neatly on her heel. She had a job to finish.

Luciana dressed quickly, forgoing her armour in favour of more formal and regal clothing. It did strongly resemble a Knight’s parade uniform, as she’d always had an inclination towards such a style. She chose a sturdy pair of boots and slipped her chain necklace over her head. It held her wedding band, the silver wolf’s head pendant from Anduin’s wedding outfit, the time-smoothed fragment of shell with Bold Karasshi’s name on it, and the old coin her brother had given to her. She slowed, her eyes on the reflection of the coin in her mirror. Reaching up, she gently took it in her scarred fingers. It seemed like it was decades ago that Bannister had handed her the coin.

“For good luck, huh?” she murmured, and then she tucked the necklace under her shirt, where it rested next to her dog tags. “I’m going to need that.”

As she walked through the castle, she reached up to touch the small lump of tokens under her shirt. Her wedding band would stay at her neck, where it was safest, but the rest would need a better place than in the way under her shirt. She could leave them with Anduin for now, or hide them in plain sight somewhere in the castle. She’d figure it out.

A scent came to her suddenly from amidst the myriad of others that occupied the air in the castle. It was strange to smell it, as it seemed to be her own scent. “No,” she muttered, raising her nose and sniffing like a dog at a curious breeze. “Not me.” She followed the scent, effectively distracted from her beeline course to the location of the SI:7 castle branch. She followed it down, and out, and eventually found its source in the throne room. 

A warrior, like her, stood off to the side of the round room. He seemed to be there for a quest, as he was speaking rather animatedly with one of the Royal Guard lieutenants. 

“... So it’s all been taken care of,” Luciana heard him say as she approached. “We’ve left the rest of it mostly untouched, as it wasn’t in the contract, but...” When the man saw the Royal Guard suddenly jump to attention and salute, eyes facing forward, he turned with a curious, good-natured smile to see what the fuss was about. His smile abruptly vanished and he fell into a bow.

“Your Highness,” he said, awe plain in his voice. “It’s an honour.”

“Get up,” Luciana said, grabbing his elbow when he was halfway straightened. “Come with me.”

“Y-Your Highness?” he yelped when she started dragging him.

“Hurry up. In here.”

She dragged him into an unused meeting room, shutting and locking the door nearly in the startled face of a Royal Guard. They’d stand watch outside despite their curiosity, ensuring she was uninterrupted until she came out and spoke with them directly. This she knew from experience. “Princess, what...?” the adventurer asked, not even able to form his question fully.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Me?” he said, brow furrowing heavily. “I’m Dhavid Alur. An adventuring arms warrior, in service of the Alliance.” He introduced himself briefly, scent twisting with confusion and some fear when Luciana eyed him in silence. “Twenty-six years old, born and raised in Eastvale. Came to Stormwind when I was seventeen to continue my training. Been here ever since. I’ve done a lot of work with the City Guard. I would join them and I have been scouted for it, but I like to be able to travel.”

“Stand still.” Luciana moved suddenly and she heard his heart jump into a faster beat, preparing him for combat. She leaned over and sniffed at the exposed section of his neck, and then ruffled his short hair and sniffed again.

“Your Highness, what are you...?” he asked, squirming a bit.

“Stand still,” she repeated, and he stilled just long enough for her to stop sniffing and step back.

“Your Highness, if only you’d tell me what you’re looking for, I could tell you!” he said, his relatively pale cheeks reddening.

“Do you have any plans for the near future?”

“Uh, not really,” he replied, clearing his throat and straightening his tabard. A Stormwind tabard. “I was going to head out to Westbrook and see if the gnolls were causing trouble again.”

“Do you have a significant other?”

“Um, no,” he stuttered, blushing brightly now.

Luciana eyed him again. “How do you feel about the Prince?”

“Prince Anduin?” he asked, and she nodded once. His face twisted with confusion while he thought. “Prince Anduin... is, I think, the hope we need,” he answered slowly, taking the time to consider his words before letting them spill. “He is strong, but also patient and wise beyond his years. Some would say he’s too much of a pacifist, that he would surrender to the Horde... but, it’s not that simple. And anyway, his goal has always been peace, hasn’t it? Peace isn’t surrender, it’s coexistence.” His blush returned. “Ah, excuse me, Your Highness.”

“Why? You haven’t said anything that needs excusing.” He smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat again. She didn’t feel at all bad for making him nervous, as she knew it would have happened regardless of her actions. “You believe in coexistence with the Horde?”

“I have... seen a lot, Your Highness,” Dhavid said quietly. “And I’ve never seen anything in an orc, or a tauren, or a goblin, that I haven’t seen in a human or a night elf.”

“Anduin will be King soon,” Luciana said. Dhavid’s eyes widened and he looked from the floor to her face, attention focused solely on her. “We will try to find a better existence beside the Horde. I will be in Kalimdor, away from him, and he will need someone to keep him company, to make sure he doesn’t work himself into sickness, and to keep him warm and content when I’m not there to do so myself.”

Dhavid didn’t respond, save to furrow his brow again.

“How loyal are you to Stormwind?” Luciana asked. “To its people? Would you ensure that their leader is healthy and taken care of so that he might lead them well? Would you be able to keep all that you might see or hear to yourself, even under the whip?”

“Like you did?” he breathed, his eyes wide, and then he looked down. “Apologies, Princess,” he said hurriedly.

“No. You’re right to think of that,” she said, and he looked up again. “Anduin will need a friend more than anything, a confidant who will hold him up at night when he is too tired to stand on his own. Eventually,” she said, “he may need someone with whom he’s comfortable enough to sleep with. Or he may not,” she added. “Either way, he needs someone there while I can’t be so that he’s never truly alone, so that when he can’t sleep he has someone to talk to.”

Dhavid’s mouth worked a moment. “What? You want me to...?” he asked. Luciana waited, and he swallowed thickly and gathered himself. “You’re asking me to be the Prince’s paramour,” he said. “If he needs one? You’re asking me to be a trustworthy friend to the Prince, and if ever he needs a... a nightly companion,” Dhavid said, cheeks permanently pink, “then you want me to provide for him?”

“When I cannot be there to do it myself,” she confirmed.

Dhavid blinked once. “You would trust someone else with your husband,” he said, half question, half wondering.

“I don’t want to leave at all,” she said. “But I have to. But I will not leave my husband alone, without company or protection. I am a warrior, Dhavid,” she said. “So I know warriors. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have filling my place until I can return.”

Dhavid was silent for a moment, eyes wide. And then, he spoke. “You can’t know what it means to have a warrior leading us,” he said quietly. “I know that any class would say that. A hunter would follow another hunter more easily than they would a mage or a paladin. But I feel that for warriors, it will really make a difference. We’ve always been... It’s always been us to die first,” he said. “We’re the ones who fight, and suffer for it, and die young and alone. But now you’re at the top, and you’re looking after the vets, and you’re making sure even old useless warriors are taken care of...” He swallowed thickly. “You can’t know what it means to us, Princess. I know the King is a warrior, too, but... but you’re married to a priest.” He chuckled, wet his lips nervously. “The Priest and the Warrior. Just like the old kid’s tale. I don’t mean to take away from what the King has done for us,” he said. “But...”

He fell silent, and Luciana cocked her head. “But?” she prompted, seeing that the words had gotten caught in his throat, like they had in hers so many times before.

“But, you understand,” he said quietly. “Somehow, you understand better than he does. I think. It looks like it, from down here. Maybe because you were a soldier, too. You understand what it’s like for those of us who aren’t noble-born, who aren’t rich or landed or old money. You can’t know what it means to have you leading us, Princess. You’re like us. I mean, you are nobility,” he added hurriedly. “But, you’ve fought with us commoners this whole time. You know.”

“I understand,” she said softly. “My SO looked out for me. Anduin makes sure I have what I need. Varian... was the first real parent I ever knew. I won’t have my warriors suffer any more than they need to.” She heard his breath catch in his throat and saw him blink away unshed tears. “We don’t have to be alone, Dhavid,” she said. “I don’t know why we have to suffer so much when our fury is already such a burden on our bodies, but I’m going to find a way to make it right. But while I’m out searching, I need to know that my husband is safe, and if not happy then at least not alone. Otherwise I can’t do what is needed.”

“I’ll do it,” Dhavid said softly. “For you, Princess. And for the Prince,” he added. “I’m sure it’ll be odd for him, not having a warrior by his side after having you for so long. I’ll do it.” He smiled hesitantly. “If you could bear the whip for two months, then I can’t do less. I’ll stand by him when you can’t.”

“And if he turns to you with a nightmare?”

“I’ll make sure he feels safe.”

“And if he asks you for a night?”

“Then... I’ll provide.”

“He probably won’t want to be penetrated. He might want to turn off the lights and pretend you’re me.”

Dhavid didn’t need more than a half-second to realize what she was saying. “Then I’ll provide,” he said resolutely. “I swear to you, Princess, I’ll be whatever he needs for as long as you need me to be it. I’ll be the most trustworthy warrior in the Alliance,” he promised. “I won’t breathe a word of anything I might hear or see. I won’t do anything to endanger Prince Anduin, or either of your sons.”

“He won’t trust you at first,” Luciana said. “He’s been through too much for that. I’m only going to tell him that I assigned you to be a sort of personal companion, to ensure he doesn’t work through the night and that if he wants to take a walk he has someone pleasant to do it with. You’ll have to earn his trust. If you think he wants to ask you for a night but he isn’t, I’ll have a way for you to send me a message, and I’ll make it so his hesitation doesn’t make him miserable. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Dhavid said. “I know that the Prince has been through a lot. Everyone’s heard the tale of Onyxia. I’ll be careful,” he said. “And smart. I’m not an idiot,” he laughed. “I _have_ been scouted for the City Guard. If the Prince gives me cues, I’ll take them. No problem.”

“Good.” Luciana let herself give him a smile then, a small but genuine one. “And I trust you won’t seduce him away from me?”

Dhavid blushed a brilliant shade of red and spluttered, and Luciana laughed, pulling him forward into a half-hug.

“Relax, Dhavid,” she soothed. “It wouldn’t be nearly that easy to separate us. Don’t worry about it.”

“Princess, I would never-!” he sputtered.

“Don’t worry about it,” she repeated, letting her arm slide away from his shoulders. She gave the back of his neck a squeeze, and smiled crookedly. “Just make sure he doesn’t work himself into a cold. He’s done it before.”

“Princess,” Dhavid said, recovering. He straightened his tabard - a nervous habit, Luciana thought. “If you don’t mind, I would... I’d like to swear an oath of fealty to you.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said, knowing he would insist. He didn’t disappoint.

“I’d still like to do it. You are the Oathkeeper,” he said, a little breathlessly. “If I’m going to... uh, to protect your husband while you’re away, I can’t be any less.”

She eyed him for a moment, and then offered her hand, the signet ring glinting under the werelight that illuminated the room.

Dhavid knelt before her, took her hand and kissed the ring. “I swear fealty, loyalty, and service,” he said, forgoing an official oath. “I swear to all that you have asked of me today, and I will serve gladly, as a warrior under a champion of our kind.” A moment of silence as he thought. “I will be friend, caretaker, guard or companion to the Prince, in whatever form he asks of me, until you yourself can return to his side. I will not fail you,” Dhavid said fervently. “I will use my fury to protect what you hold dear. There may not be much left of me in by the time you return, but I will die knowing that I served my King and Queen loyally until the end.”

Luciana watched as he stood. He was the same height as her, maybe an inch taller. His skin was paler, but his hair seemed to be about the same thickness and colour as hers. “I will find a way,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his face in her scarred hands. She brought his head down and kissed his forehead. When she released him, his eyes were wide with wonder. “Take care of my husband so that I can take care of you all,” she said. “If something happened to him, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Nothing good,” Dhavid laughed nervously.

“No, nothing good,” she agreed seriously. “You’ll know when you’re needed. It will probably be a few weeks after I leave for Kalimdor, but Anduin will start to isolate himself. By that time he’ll know that you’re around. When the public notices he’s not being seen as much, go to him. Be his friend. And be wary of my cousin Marcellus,” she warned darkly.

“Is he a problem?” Dhavid asked, his fury turning over like a stirring beast. Luciana smiled, but it was not a friendly expression. His fury was not like hers, but it responded much like Varian’s did. It was perfect. “I’ll do whatever is needed.”

“No, but thank you.” She sighed. “He’s nothing to worry about. He’s just incredibly annoying. I try to keep him busy running errands and messages but he always finds the time to be aggravating.”

“Then why keep him around?” Dhavid asked. “Surely you could find someone less annoying?”

“Because he’s useful,” she admitted. “Anyway, just remember not to snap his neck. I reserve the right to do it myself.”

“Alright,” Dhavid smiled, hearing the joking humour in her voice.

“I trust you can keep to yourself all that’s happened here?” she asked. “I won’t hear rumours?”

“Of course not!” he said, mildly offended. “I agreed to secrecy. I swore to it. I will not go back on my oath.”

“Good. This is a great weight off my shoulders, Dhavid,” she said, moving to open the door. “Anduin is more precious to me than anything, save our children. I’ve survived the loss the world has inflicted on me so far, but if I lost him...”

“You won’t,” Dhavid said softly. “I swear it.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, giving his shoulder a solid pat as he passed her. “As for me suddenly pulling you away... you can just tell them I wanted an adventurer who could tell stories for my boys.”

“Alright.” He smiled, then it fell. “Ah, about your sons...”

“Anduin will give you cues on that,” she said. “If he wants you to be near them, you’ll know. And if he doesn’t want you near them...”

“I would know it,” Dhavid grinned. “Understood, Princess. I’ll pay attention.”

“Good. I’ll be busy from now on,” she said, “but if you do need me for something, make an appointment with the Seneschal. He’ll know to let you in early.”

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. He lingered in the doorway, unsure. The words had gotten caught in his throat again.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s just...” he said, his words stopping and starting suddenly. “It’s an honour. To serve you. I mean, not that it wouldn’t be an honour to... to serve the Prince,” he said, blushing. “But you’re a warrior. Like me. It’s just... an honour.”

She gave him a smile like the ones she gave her sons, giving the back of his neck another squeeze. “I understand,” she said. “Now go on. I think the guard you were talking to was pretty confused. Might want to go clear that up.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

He hurried away, and she watched him go. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that she was watching herself walk away. The same rolling gait, the same movement in the shoulders... She was glad she’d followed that scent.

Luciana frowned suddenly. She’d have to talk to Anduin about this. It might really anger him that she’d done it without his go-ahead. She hoped he wouldn’t make her sleep in the snoring room, without the comfort of his scent in the sheets.


	46. Deathsworn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering writing something from Anduin's POV, or about him, when he was young (like 16-18). Maybe. What do you readers think? Would you be interested in that?  
> What about something from the POV of a soldier of the Amadeus Squadron, to get more background on them/Luciana?

Mordreth met her at the edge of the flightmaster’s clearing. “Princess,” he greeted, bowing his head. He’d forgone his helm for their meeting, but his runeblade was strapped to his back. It whispered with frost magic.

“Scourgelord,” she replied. “Lead the way.” Luciana had brought only two Royal Guards along, but Lars was also with her and took a position at her left, leaving the right and rear open for the guards.

Mordreth gestured in silence and took the short way down from the gryphon’s roost. “As it turns out, worgen do count as sentient,” he said almost conversationally as they walked. “Enough, at least, to slake the runeblade’s thirst for death.”

“Good. Is it something you and your knights can keep up for years on end?”

“Of course,” he said. “We don’t even have to take potty breaks.”

Luciana smiled, but it was more of a grimace at his terrible humour. “Right. Have you made any sort of plan, or will I be doing all the work?”

“No, no,” he soothed. The sound sent a chill of disquiet down Luciana’s back. It ground in her ears like nails on a chalkboard. “With your permission, I’ll bring in the numbers I’ve already called on and we can start patrolling regularly alongside the Night Watch.”

“Good. In that case,” she said, reaching out to her left. Lars silently deposited a large envelope full of papers into her outstretched hand. “Let’s finish up the paperwork, and get you started.”

“My, you are a trooper,” Mordreth mused, leading her to the inn. They’d added another extension since her last visit to Darkshire. Outside, against the wall, leaned two runeblades. “Work, work, work. When will you stop?”

“I’m a warrior, Mordreth,” she said. “I’ll stop when I’m dead.”

“That might come sooner than you’d like, at this rate. Of course, we’d always welcome someone of your stature among our ranks. You’d require a lot less... fiddling than our other female humans.”

“Watch your tongue,” she warned.

“Apologies,” he said unapologetically. She took it anyway. She was all too aware that Mordreth was probably still relearning social boundaries. If she could be patient with her sons, she could be patient with him. At the very least she’d blunt his humour before releasing him amongst the civilians of Darkshire.

Her guards about-faced when they reached the door, taking up sentry positions. Lars entered the rented room with her and Mordreth. Two other death knights were inside, and Luciana had to fight to keep her hackles from rising at the feel of their necrotic magics. It made her skin crawl, especially since she was so used to feeling the gentle caress of the Holy Light on her skin.

“Yer Highness,” one greeted. A female dwarf. The other, Luciana couldn’t identify past their armour. They didn’t speak.

“Clear out,” Mordreth ordered, and the two death knights obeyed without a word. The door shut quietly behind them. “Please,” Mordreth said, gesturing to the vacated room, and Luciana took her appropriate place at the head of the table to spread out the paperwork.

“You’ll need to read it and tell me what needs to be amended. I don’t know as much about death knights as you do, so I can’t provide what’s needed without a second opinion.”

She let Mordreth read, having him sign off where necessary. She knew already that the Knights of the Ebon Blade were all affiliated with Acherus, staying together under their Highlord for ease of access and assurance that they’d have backup and a safe place to retreat to if the living became hostile. Or, alternatively, they had people that could kill them if they lost control completely. It would be easy to simply take the death knights she needed for Duskwood and have them swear loyalty to her.

“Done,” Mordreth said, breaking the silence. “Just a few things to fix. Other than that, you’ve covered everything. Did your research, huh?”

She eyed him with a slight scowl. “If you’re favourable, your forces will take the name Darkshire Deathsworn and a living human quartermaster. That’ll make it easier for citizens to voice concerns or report problems.”

“Sure,” he said. “I already have someone in mind for that. She was bitten by a feral worgen, been fighting off the infection since then. Her immune system’s completely shot and she’s picked up a host of other diseases. If we give her lichfire, she’ll...”

“You will not spread undeath among my people,” Luciana said, her fury boiling suddenly. “It’s caused enough pain. Or have you already forgotten Arthas?” she spat.

“I didn’t at all mean that,” Mordreth said, holding up a hand in surrender. She nearly reached out and tore it off for the disrespect, but reminded herself again that undead didn’t always have good social graces. It was hard to have any at all when you stank of rot all day and never slept. “I only meant lichfire. It’s different. Eventually, if we isolated her for years, it would turn her into... well, something. But lichfire is no different from any other magic. Be careful and follow the instructions, and it’s quite useful. They use it up in Valliance to burn plague out of contaminated ground, though I think they mixed it with frostfire and something else.”

Luciana’s scowl had deepened into a fierce glare, but she thought. A living human, already apparently on her death bed, could become a link between death knights still loyal to their Crown and the living that they protected. It seemed too good, and she said as much.

“Well, she won’t be quite living,” Mordreth said. “Her heart will continue, all functions will continue, but she’ll be different. We still haven’t studied it enough, mostly from lack of volunteer test subjects...”

“I will send a representative to be present when you offer her the position and explain everything that it entails,” Luciana said. “Until then, organize the Deathsworn in accordance with the Mayor’s wishes, and send out preliminary parties. I want to know that it works before I send funds and supplies for it.”

“Of course. When your rep comes in, we’ll speak to the girl. Well, young woman,” he corrected. “Anyway. I had a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Speak your piece,” she sighed, leaning back as Lars gathered her copies of the paperwork.

“What are you planning?” Mordreth asked. “There’s a funny feel to the air in Stormwind.”

“A shift,” she replied quietly. “On the same lines as the generational gap. People won’t like it, so watch your backs when it starts. It’ll be a bumpy ride at first but it’ll smooth out when they see the results start.”

Mordreth nodded once, slowly, like he was considering the words. “Those of us of Acherus who once stood for the Alliance will do so again, with King Anduin,” he murmured. “We remember the chance his father called for us.”

“I’ll relay your words,” Luciana said quietly. She pushed her chair back and stood, and held out her hand. “I’ll leave the details up to you, but I want the Deathsworn fully operational by the end of the summer.”

“It will be done,” Mordreth said, pulling off his gauntlet to shake her hand with care. His fingers felt like bands of ice closing around her hand. If it weren’t for the sensation of necrotic energies that felt like crawling insect legs on her skin, it would’ve been pleasant.

Lars followed along faithfully when Luciana left the inn’s side building. Her guards fell into step easily and they made their way further into town.

“There’s someone I want to visit,” Luciana said. “Lars, there should be a night elf druid around here somewhere by the name of Isendir Shadewhisper. Check with the ward-keepers, first. I’ll be in the tavern.”

“Cap,” Lars said before he disappeared, more out of habit than anything.

The tavern keeper seemed quite surprised to see her without prior announcement, but she didn’t let him speak before asking for a private room.

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said, gesturing with a hand that she noticed trembled ever so slightly. “If you’ll follow me?” He led her to a quiet corner of the second floor, opening a door to a comfortable lounge with wide windows and a hearth that crackled with a low fire. “Shall I fetch more logs for the fire?”

“No, we won’t be here overlong.”

“Should we be expecting anyone else?” he asked.

“One of my guards. Don’t worry about it. Just bring me a bottle of wine and some soft cider. Five glasses.”

She swept her heavy cloak to the side before sitting, letting it hang over her left knee as she reclined into the overstuffed armchair. She sighed heavily, turning her head to look at her guards. They’d each taken a position - one stood by the door, shield at the ready, and the other stood by her chair. “What do you two think?” she asked.

“About what, Princess?” the guard closer to her ask. _Howard Levell_ , she thought. _And the other is Gregory? Yes, Gregory._

“About pitting death knights in an organized force against the feral worgen that constantly stream into Duskwood.”

“I think it’s practical,” George said from his place at the door. “I mean, both are like leaks in the pipes.”

“I don’t like death knights,” Howard said, a bit uneasy. “But I’ve heard good things about them. Bad things, too, but more good things. I’ve heard worse about warlocks, and we treat them well enough. They’ve got their own Conclave, and everything.”

Luciana hummed quietly and leaned her head on her fist, her elbow digging into the arm of her chair. “It should turn out well enough,” she said. “I don’t like having the death knights on the fringe of society. It’s a bad place to put volatile people. Better to have them closer, more familiar, and give them a reason to find a way to get along with the living. They used to number among us,” she said. “And they still serve the Alliance.”

Neither of her guards responded, and she didn’t push them for conversation. She knew her words would find a way out somehow and she would wait for them to simmer. Instead, she enjoyed the silence, and the wine that a barkeep brought her. She opened the bottle of cider and gave it a sniff. It smelled fine, and offered it to Howard. He smiled and nodded in thanks, and poured a drink for himself and his partner. She poured her own wine without a word, gave it a sniff, and drank. She heard Gregory choke on his cider.

“Princess, you should let us taste it first!” Howard scolded. She grinned fleetingly at him.

“I can smell better than you can taste,” she said. “But thank you anyway.” She saw, past the shadow of his helmet, an embarrassed blush. Her grin lingered for a few extra moments.

Luciana sat in silence for only a short while, playing with a gold coin she’d pulled from her pocket. The wine, she estimated, was worth about one gold and twenty-five silver. A relatively expensive drink in a smaller than average bottle. It was reflected in the nuances of its flavour that she discovered each time she let it roll over her tongue. Soft cider was cheaper, since it didn’t have alcohol, but it was still a good brand. It would be about forty silver, perhaps a few more. She doubted the tavern keeper would let her pay for it. Simply having her in the building would increase their revenue for days to come from curious locals. Not charging her for her drinks would encourage her to come back to their tavern when she was in town.

Lars returned to her in silence, save for his knocking. “It’s me,” she heard, and Gregory opened the door.

“Lars,” he reported simply. All of the Royal Guards knew Lars by now. “And a night elf.”

“Isendir,” Luciana sighed, and shifted to less casual position in her chair. “Let them in.”

He opened the door to allow the two entrance. Lars came in first, eyeing her up and down, confirming what he already knew - that she was uninjured, healthy, and not an imposter. Not many could come close to imitating her aura, after all.

“Luce,” Lars greeted. The Royal Guards knew him, and also knew that he was one of the few people allowed to refer to her in such a casual manner as a nickname. “Isendir.” He gestured to the night elf.

“Princess,” Isendir said, bowing his head. “It is an honour to speak with you again.”

“Come and sit,” she said, nudging the other armchair with her booted foot. He sat in silence. She noticed that he still wasn’t wearing proper footwear. “Vic’s doing well,” she said. “Thought you’d like to know.”

A slight smile curled his lips. “I am glad I could be of service to her,” he said. “She has a good humour. She will do well.”

Luciana hummed in agreement. “Do you want some wine?”

“No, thank you,” he said briefly.

“I need a new scout,” she said, forgoing explanations and formalities. “Mine found a den to curl up in and isn’t leaving, and I’m not pulling her out. I need someone who can move quickly and quietly, and preferably who can stealth.”

“You are asking me to join your personal guard?” Isendir asked.

“Alongside the remaining members of Amadeus Squadron,” she said. “And a few new people from the Exodar. I’m going to be very busy, and in a lot of danger, very soon,” she said. “I need sturdy and versatile people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, and who won’t turn on me. I also need the other members of the Alliance to know that I’m not going to ignore them in the coming years.”

Isendir took only a moment to think. “If you would have me,” he said, “I would be honoured.”

“Good. In that case,” she said, pouring a bit of cider into one of the two remaining glasses. She pushed one towards him and he took it, not sniffing it, hardly even looking at it. She smiled lopsidedly. “Welcome to the team.”

He gently tapped their glasses together and took a sip of his drink. Luciana finished hers, and poured the rest of the wine into the glass. “Shall I see your spymasters?” Isendir asked.

“No,” she said. “They’ve already gotten what they need.”

“You plan ahead.”

“Wouldn’t you, in my position?”

He only nodded, and took another sip of his drink. Lars quietly took the last glass of cider from the table at Luciana’s side.


	47. Not a Babysitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed the issue with the duplicate chapters, gonna double check everything now

Luciana’s party made their way back to the flightmaster. It had only taken a couple of hours to clear up the details with Mordreth on which Luciana had been unsure, and she’d spent less than an hour in the tavern. It had still been long enough for the flightmaster to finish his shift. A Wildhammer dwarf with a long red beard and no hair on his tattooed scalp had replaced him.

“To Stormwind,” Luciana told the dwarf. “With some haste.”

“Of course, Yer Highness,” he said, his voice gravelly but not grave at all.

Luciana turned to Isendir. “Can you take flight form?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you prefer a gryphon for the trip?”

“If it’s no trouble.”

She nodded, and turned to the flightmaster. “Three,” she said, and the dwarf nodded, his beard bobbing animatedly.

Three gryphons, with Luciana flying alone, brought them to Stormwind on easy winds. When her gryphon started to descend to land at the Gryphon Roost, Luciana pulled it back into the air. It cawed at her in complaint, but allowed her to redirect it to a part of the castle’s roof that was safe for landing flying mounts. When she looked back to check on her guards, Luciana saw that the other two gryphons had followed the first.

The gryphons were glad to be off again. The trip hadn’t been longer than a couple of hours and the winds had been calm, but gryphons would by nature seek out a safe place to rest after a flight, no matter how short. Luciana didn’t begrudge them the rest, despite her mild envy that she couldn’t do the same.

“Beautiful beasts, aren’t they?” she heard one of her Royal Guards murmur.

“Aye,” the other agreed. “Sure are grouchy, though.”

She allowed herself a quiet chuckle, but quickly composed herself. The heavy iron and wood door that would let her enter the Keep’s tower was shut, and it took only a sharp tug to open it with a groan of metal.

Isendir and Lars slipped in after her, and she left the door open for the guards. “Go ahead and take off,” she said to Lars as she walked. “I need to speak with my husband.”

“Not the Prince?” he asked knowingly.

“No, this is a bit more sensitive than that. If he’s mad at me for it, you might see me tonight.”

“So that’s why you wander around all the time.”

“No,” she said. “Those are patrols.”

“The King does the same thing.”

“Yes.”

“Warrior thing?”

“No,” she said softly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lars broke away from her outside the servant’s wing, and she let him go without a word. He always found something to occupy himself when she was safe in the Keep. Isendir followed her in silence until she found where she wanted to drop him off. “Isendir,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Things are going to be rough for a while,” she said quietly. “Anduin and I, we intend to find peace. Not more war, not a temporary reprieve. We don’t want families to wonder which one of them is going to die next. We don’t want people to wonder if tomorrow will be the next Cataclysm. The next invasion. The Fourth War.”

“I understand,” he said quietly. “It is a noble goal. I will do my best to aid you.”

She eyed him warily for a moment. “Will you?” she asked. “Even if it means abandoning all thoughts of revenge against the Horde? For Ashenvale? What if High Priestess Tyrande orders you to go against me, for the good of Darnassus? What if Archdruid Malfurion calls you back to Teldrassil? You are a kaldorei. Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with your own people?”

Isendir raised his head, speaking quietly but surely. “I am nearing my thousandth year,” he said. “In all my time, I have never enjoyed a period of true peace. I should like to do so before the next Cataclysm. For which, hopefully, we will be prepared.”

“Who is we?” Luciana asked, eyes sharp.

“We... are the people of Azeroth,” Isendir said in a tone that indicated he’d come to a conclusion. “Kaldorei or sindorei, human or orc, draenei or goblin, pandaren or worgen. We are all Azerothians, whatever we were before, and we must all fight for our home.”

Luciana regarded him carefully for a moment, assessing him and his words but more importantly, his tone. She nodded once with finality, and the matter was resolved. “Go through here,” she said, pointing to the adjacent hallway. “You’ll reach the Throne Room. I’ll tell the guards you’re with me now and they’ll let you pass wherever you want. It’ll take maybe a day for word to spread. You can explore the public wing, in the meantime, and you can house with my other personal guards. They’re still called Amadeus Squadron, despite me not being an Amadeus anymore, and despite them not actually being a squadron. Soon, you’ll be the Queen’s Guard, but for now, you’re Amadeus.”

“Princess,” Isendir said quietly in his voice like creaking willows. He slipped away in the shadows. Luciana watched him go in silence, thinking. 

When she reached her chambers, she came to a halt in front of the door and took a deep breath. “Is Anduin inside?”

“No, I believe he’s with your cousin, Lord Marcellus,” the door guard responded. “Shall I find him?”

“No, it’s fine. And the Princes?”

“Safe and sound with their tutor and their guards.”

“Good. Thank you.”

She breathed deeply a few times, gathering herself before leaving the safety of the Royal Wing. Wrathion had a room in the guest’s chambers, and while it wasn’t a long walk to find it, it felt like it was. 

She hadn’t really thought about whether or not Anduin wanted a companion. Not even a paramour - just someone who’d keep him company while he made progress on the endless stream of paperwork channeled straight to his desk. She’s picked up Dhavid’s scent, difficult as it was because of its similarity to hers, and she’d jumped on the opportunity. She wouldn’t regret it - after all, he’d been destined for the Westbrook Garrison and this had likely been the only time she would have seen him. Or rather, smelled him. Still, Anduin could easily find reason to be angry at her for it. _Treating me like a child,_ she imagined him saying. _Like I can’t find my own companions. Like I can’t survive alone. Like I_ need _someone nearby all the time. You went and found me a babysitter._

She bit back the dread that built in her chest, and nodded to the Royal Guard that was patrolling near Wrathion’s door. “The Prince is visiting with him?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard answered.

“Thank you, Willard.”

He beamed like a fog light at the sound of his name. He was still grinning when she shut the door behind her.

Wrathion was the first to look up, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. Anduin, his instincts not quite as sharp as those of a dragon, took a moment longer. “Lucy,” he greeted warmly, smiling when he saw it was her. “You’re back earlier than you expected.”

“Mordreth is efficient,” she said briefly. She looked at Wrathion, who artfully quirked an eyebrow at her. “Put your face back on and go outside. I need to speak with Anduin. Alone,” she added.

Wrathion exhaled loudly through his nose, as though she’d placed some great burden on his shoulders, and stood from his chair. “Very well,” he sighed. “We shall continue our game later then, Prince?”

“Yes, of course,” Anduin said with a nod. “You’ve improved a lot, by the way.”

“Thank you. One tends to learn when one repeats the same motions twelve hundred times,” Wrathion replied dryly. He slipped the enchanted pendant from the table into his pocket, and the illusion flickered to life.

Luciana took his seat opposite Anduin. He waited until the door shut and she heard Wrathion’s footsteps moving away before speaking. “How’re things in Darkshire?”

“Fine. Moving along well. My shift is almost done there.” She cleared her throat. “I may have done something you won’t like.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. “Something I personally won’t like?” he asked.

“Yes.” She half-smiled nervously. “We talked about me picking up a paramour. We didn’t talk about you getting one.”

“I don’t need one,” he said immediately. Automatically.

“But you might want one. Or maybe someone to keep you company while you work? I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But I found someone with a scent very similar to mine. Height, build, hair, all quite similar. Shockingly so.”

Anduin leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look happy, but he was letting her speak.

“I didn’t tell him to be something,” she said. “I just told him to take your cues on what you wanted. He’s a warrior,” she said. Anduin was silent. “Friendly sort. Seemed intelligent enough. I haven’t had him checked yet but to me he seemed trustworthy, which says a lot.” Anduin didn’t respond. “I want someone to make sure you don’t work until you’re sick if I can’t be here to do it myself. I’m not...” she said, stopping suddenly. “I’m not assigning you a babysitter. If you want to, you can just dismiss him. I’ll take his anger for it. I mean, it’s my fault.” Anduin remained silent, watching her, waiting for her to continue. “I just don’t want you to sit alone in your room all day.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a babysitter,” he said quietly, frowning. She looked down at the table, inspected the jihui pieces.

“It’s not. He can be a friend,” she said. “Company, when I’m not there. Or... whatever you want.”

“You’re trying to get me to replace you?” Anduin asked.

“Are you trying to get me to replace you?” she countered.

“No,” he sighed. “But I’m not trying to get you a babysitter, either.”

“He’s not a babysitter,” she repeated, looking up again. “I’ll have my team to make sure I don’t do something stupid like work until four in the morning when I have an eight o’clock breakfast,” she said, eyeing him.

“Only once,” he grumbled, but he didn’t deny it.

“But who will you have? Not the guards. Not SI:7. Varian won’t do that, though I’m sure he’d visit with you whenever you asked.” She inhaled deeply, counting the seconds and then exhaling slowly. “I just don’t want you to be alone again. You were so desperate to get out of it before. I remember how eager you were to just talk to me, even when I didn’t talk back.”

Anduin took a while to respond. “I understand,” he said softly, and then his frown broke and he smiled slightly. “It’s the same reason I want you to find someone.”

“I’m looking,” she said defensively, and then inhaled slowly again. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” His smile widened slightly. “So, you found me a man to keep me company on cold nights? My dear wife, what do you think of me?”

She smiled, relaxing a bit in her chair. “Aren’t you the one who told me you like my broad shoulders and strong back?” she said. “Aren’t you the one who likes women, but finds men most attractive? Or did I have wool stuffed in my ears?”

His ears blushed pink. “I did say that,” he admitted. “And I meant it. I suppose I’ll have to meet him, won’t I? Tell me what you told him,” he said. Luciana recounted her conversation with Dhavid, and Anduin’s smile turned into a frown, and then into a smile again while she spoke. “You have to find some way to give other warriors what you’ve received,” he said quietly. “Dhavid, you, Father... You all speak like you already know when you’re going to die.”

“Not anymore,” Luciana said.

“Not you, no. But Father? He’s got Audrey, but he still...”

“I’ll find a way,” Luciana said. “I’ll speak with O’ros. Maybe they know something. That’s still at least a few months away, though. Did you find out why Varian is stalling?”

“He’s afraid,” Anduin said. “He took over when his father was assassinated by a trusted friend. I had to take over when he was captured in Onyxia’s plans. He’s seeing ill omens everywhere, says something is coming. But something is _always_ coming,” Anduin said. “I did get him to commit to a solid date. The ninth.”

“In two days.”

“Yes.” Anduin grinned suddenly, and laughed breathlessly. “I’m going to be King. Actually King, this time. And you’re going to be my Queen.”

His giddiness was infectious and soon Luciana’s smile matched his, save for its crookedness. “We can change things,” she said. “There won’t be any more Frederics.”

“No,” Anduin said, his smile falling for a moment. “No more Frederics.” It returned quickly. “And plenty more Lucianas.”

“What’s that mean?” she asked.

“Families,” he answered. “Survivors. Veterans with an actual home to return to. People with purpose, who believe in their born right to life and to happiness.”

“It won’t be easy,” she said.

“We’ll make it work,” he promised.

“Together,” she murmured, smiling softly. “I picked up Isendir in Darkshire.”

“Good. You just need a tank, now.”

“Mm. I’ll go to the Warrior’s Conclave. I’m sure I’ll find someone. Either a tank or a paramour.”

“Or both,” Anduin teased. “I’ll be surrounded by warriors soon enough.”

“Nowhere safer,” Luciana said.

Anduin only smiled, and then gestured to the jihui board. “Do you mind if I continue my game with him? We were just halfway through.”

“Sure. He’ll no doubt be lurking nearby. When he sees me leave, he’ll come back.” Luciana stood and made her way around the table to Anduin. Reaching down, she braced her hands on the back and arm of his chair and kissed him softly, and then kissed him again, lingering long enough to make Anduin wonder if she did mind if he continued his game, instead of giving his attention to her. “I love you,” she murmured against his mouth, kissing him again, lingering again for the taste of him.

He reached up and cupped her face when she made to move away, intending to bring her back down to kiss her. It proved unnecessary. She leaned in again when she felt his touch, deepened the kiss, inhaled - she could smell him, honeysuckle and dry wood and Light, and wondered if he could smell her, not as deeply, but certainly something. When her breath started to shorten, she wondered if Anduin had forgotten that Wrathion’s nose was at least as sensitive as hers, and then she wondered if he intended to do something the dragon would certainly smell. But he released her, smiling, cheeks pink. “I love you, too,” he murmured, and gave her one more sweet, soft kiss.

He’d woken her fury with his attention and it tried to keep her heart rate steady at a higher level than she needed. She breathed deeply, enjoying Anduin’s scent while calming her fury, keeping it from turning into lust, into true arousal. “We haven’t had sex in nearly a week,” she reminded him quietly.

He only smiled and said, “Then tonight will be a very good night.”


	48. Glen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Deadly_Nighshae for pointing out my posting error with ch 47 and 48! I don't know how ch 47 got mixed up but I've posted what should have been posted the first time around. Please go and reread chapter 47, and sorry for the confusion!  
> Edit: I found the source. chapter 30 took a break.

The Consort’s Guild had found her a few people to review. Luciana had taken her time in considering them, mostly at Anduin’s insistence. He wanted her to find a paramour, reminding her that she’d already found him someone. She had grumbled a bit, but she had also taken the Guild’s suggestions seriously. They had been in business since before the First War, and they knew what they were doing. After all, they’d served the Royal Family’s needs for even longer.

Still, the people they’d found her weren’t satisfactory. The first had been a warrior like her, but far too aggressive with others. The second had been intelligent, but she was overtly disrespectful and Luciana could imagine only too easily that she’d be tempted to simply break her jaw to silence her. The third had been... odd, even for a bard. Luciana didn’t really know why he’d been on the list. And the fourth had had a completely different scent from Anduin. The fifth had been promising, but Luciana still hadn’t been satisfied that she’d found someone she could have frequent sex with and not get bored of it. The woman had been quite pretty and regal, and had a voice that Luciana knew would make some lovely sounds - but she wasn’t what Luciana wanted.

The sixth was different. Whoever had picked him out had obviously known that Luciana would want someone similar to Anduin, the person whose company she obviously enjoyed the most. His build was a bit slimmer than Anduin, but his hair had the same length and silky texture. He was darker, but his skin was a beautiful shade of black with warm tones and the scent that wafted from his skin, left without perfume or scented cream, was markedly similar to Anduin’s scent. Warm honey was accentuated with cinnamon and cloves, mixed with milk and something nutty, with a dryness that kept it from being too rich.

Luciana hadn’t allowed the Consort’s Guild to notify the potentials that they were potentials. She wanted to observe them, how they truly were, when they weren’t in front of their Princess. It took a full two days to follow three of them around and get a feel for their personalities. She ignored the fact that she was technically stalking them, and dismissed each from her mind after spending time watching them.

Except for Glen Stanton. Previously a tavern singer, currently an escort because of the debt attached to his name from a failed business venture. Slow with his payments and therefore not the in good graces of the people he’d borrowed from. He’d managed to sweet talk one of the higher-ups into being patient, but said patience was, according to the Consort’s Guild report, running out. Glen was currently looking for a sponsor - a “sugar momma”, as the guild master Saoirse liked to say - to either pay off his debt in installments in exchange for his services, or to protect him while he worked and paid it off himself. Again, in exchange for his services.

“He’s interesting,” Luciana had admitted to Saoirse, who had come to the Keep to see such an important client personally. “A very nice scent to him.”

“I know,” Saoirse smiled wolfishly, and tapped her nose. “I had some of my puppies check him out.” At the mention of the worgen bodyguards she had on her payroll, Luciana half-smiled briefly. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to accompany you in exchange for the protection merited merely by being seen in your company.”

“Oh, I’d do better than that,” Luciana drawled, swirling the whisky in her glass. She’d barely touched it, just enough to taste it. Her thoughts were preoccupied. Would Anduin approve of her choice? Would Varian fault her for making it? Did she care what Varian thought about the affairs between her and Anduin? She did, but not enough to go back on her promise to Anduin to find someone to keep her company. “Have him meet me here as soon as possible. I’d like to get the official part out of the way. After this, your part is over.”

“I am glad to be of service,” Saoirse said with a smile.

“As for payment,” Luciana said before Saoirse could bring it up. “A fee for searching at one hundred and seventy-five gold, a finder’s fee at one hundred gold, and an inquiry fee at three hundred and twenty. A total of five hundred and ninety-five gold. Or am I miscalculating?”

“You’re not,” Saoirse soothed. “But I wouldn’t dare charge such... exorbitant prices to the future Queen. What kind of reputation would that garner?”

“You’d rather make it public that I used your services.”

“You know the Game better than any, after all.”

“My personal affairs are not public ones,” Luciana said, a warning flash of anger in her eyes. Saoirse, for once, did not use her considerable skills to diffuse it. She was all too aware that she was facing one of the most dangerous people in the Eastern Kingdoms, and her expression grew serious. “Though I am a public figure, I am not public property. My reasons for seeking a paramour are my own, and my husband’s. I have no doubt that rumours will abound with or without my consent, and I will let them. But I will pay you the full fees and you will not spread them yourself, nor will your people.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” Saoirse said softly. “We’ve been in business for a long time, and it’s not because we’re fools. You’re not the first Royal we’ve served, either. I’ll have a bill written and prep for a delivery.”

“By the end of the week,” Luciana confirmed. When it was offered, she tapped her crystal tumbler full of whiskey against Saoirse ‘swine glass, and took a sip. “Thank you for your time.”

“My absolute pleasure, Princess,” Saoirse purred, the usual amused sultriness returning to her expression. “I’ll have my people fetch Glen for you. Consider having him sing - he’s got quite the voice on him. And quite the set of lungs,” Seanna added with a playful wink.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luciana said, her own amusement allowed to show.

It didn’t take long for Glen to arrive. Luciana didn’t leave the lounge room she’d chosen to occupy for Saoirse’s visit, and a Royal Guard brought Glen right to her.

“Your Highness, Glen Stanton,” the guard said, allowing Glen to enter the room past the impressive girth of the particularly sturdy Guard Wilson. “Greet Her Royal Highness, Princess Luciana.”

“Your Highness,” Glen said, bowing low at the waist. Awe was clear in his voice, as was fear and confusion well masked by a smooth, false confidence. “It is an honour.”

“Shut the door,” Luciana said without looking up from her book. The latest edition of Strange Tides. Jinyu had a writing style that seemed odd to Easterners, but the books were popular for a reason. They were poetic and flowed well, and the subject matter varied intensely from one book to the next. “Sit down, Glen,” she said. There was only one other chair in the room. She’d had the others removed for her meetings.

Glen quietly took his seat. When she ceased to act like anyone else was present, she sensed him quiet himself beyond his voice or his posture. He made himself less noticeable, less in the way - made himself small. It was a skill few could acquire without severe trauma to inflict it, but his report hadn’t mentioned anything particularly terrible beyond his luck with his venture. If he made himself small so easily at her cue, then she could stretch out and take the room she needed to relax without being completely alone. Even when Anduin wasn’t there. 

After finishing another chapter Luciana marked her page and put the book on the table. “Glen Stanton,” she started. “Age twenty-four. Singer in The Blue Recluse for six years. A year and a half ago you struck out to start your own musical production company but it failed, leaving you in debt to a largely suspicious company with obviously shady connections. You’ve been paying it off slowly with funds from your independent escort services but the pay isn’t nearly what it needs to be to see you out of debt in the next decade. Your followers are becoming impatient.”

Glen nodded slowly. He was wary of her. “That is correct, Your Highness,” he said quietly.

“You’re looking for someone to either protect you while you pay it off, or to pay it off for you. How would you swing that?” she asked. “How would you pay off that debt?”

“Through escorting,” he said as though it were obvious.

“Not everyone’s first choice.”

“It’s actually my second,” he quipped, but he sobered immediately. “Pardon me. I mean to say, I don’t mind it much. I’d prefer singing, but both can be fun.”

Luciana relaxed into the back of her armchair, regarding him silently. “Do you mind travelling?”

“No.”

“Danger?”

“I assume a client who will be in dangerous situations would offer protection from said danger,” he said cautiously.

“Protection and payment,” she said. “I’ll pay off your debt, warn them off from bothering you in the future, offer protection from a myriad of sources, and pay you.”

His eyes were sharp, his quietness a very effective facade. “And the catch?” he asked.

“I’m not always gentle.” She smirked crookedly, the kind of expression that made it hard for her nobles to look her in the eye. Barely visible in the firelight if it weren’t for Luciana’s eyesight, Glen’s eyes darted to her lips for a moment, and she could see the temptation flicker through him, but only for a half-second. He was, if nothing else, professional. “Nor am I easily satisfied.”

Understanding flashed across his expression this time. “It is, of course, a great honour to be even considered by you, Your Highness,” he started. “You understand that I do intend to eventually return to the music industry, and so an injury that would prevent me from performing would be... problematic.”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you unless you enjoy it,” she said, her smile promising, her eyes dark and hungry. “And I don’t enjoy sex if my partner doesn’t. At that point, you know it’s no longer sex. And that also means that you have full right to refuse my business for any reason. You don’t even have to tell me why. You’ll still have to keep this all to yourself, of course.”

He gave her a stately nod. He could hold himself well, almost like a noble. Or like a noble’s escort.

“There would be the issue of... confidentiality. Discretion,” she added. “You wouldn’t exactly be a secret from my husband, but I prefer to keep my truly private affairs as such from the general public.”

“Will I be servicing you alone, Your Highness?” he asked.

“Yes. Anything else, I’ll consult you prior. Don’t worry about it,” she said, changing her expression into a more soothing one. “I’m not looking to degrade you. I just need someone that I can exhaust myself on when I can’t fight out the excess energy, maybe someone to help me relax after a long day.”

“I understand,” he said, his expression clearing. He even smiled a bit. “I’ve... ah, helped warriors do that in the past.”

“Good.” She straightened in her seat. “If you’d like, I’ll have a legal contract drawn up. First, though, there are some things you will need to do. You should hear them before agreeing to this.”

“Of course.” He nodded again.

“There is a reversible procedure to halt production of semen,” she said. “You will have it done. Only my husband is allowed to do that.” To his credit, Glen didn’t even blush, only nodded as though it were to be expected. “A shadow priest will look into your mind to ensure you’re trustworthy, and to place wards against mindreading and mind control. For your own safety, as well as mine.”

“That’s only fair,” he said.

“My husband has to approve of you,” she warned. “And I want to bring you for a test run. You have a good build and the right kind of scent, but that could mean nothing.”

“I understand,” Glen said.

“And you’ll be around my daughter,” Luciana added. “I don’t think I need to warn you that my children are very dear to me.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t do anything that would endanger a child, let alone a child of my Princess,” he said, scandalized.

“She’s not like most children,” Luciana said. “Doesn’t talk much, and gets overwhelmed far too easily. We’re still trying to figure out why that is, but it’s likely to do with her precarious birth. She will notice you, and fast. She’s very observant. To her, you will be Mama’s special friend who keeps her company when she’s not with Papa. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. My personal guard will be familiar with you, and you must be familiar with them, as you will be within my inner circle. That means you’ll need to get along with at least some of them. Including draenei, night elves, and whoever else I pick up.”

“I’ve never had any problems with that,” Glen said.

“You will be exposed to state secrets,” Luciana warned. “But you don’t need to promise secrecy. The shadow priests will determine if you can be trusted with sensitive information. You will be bribed, coerced, or threatened into spying on me.”

Glen took a moment to respond. “If I may speak freely, Princess?” She gestured for him to go ahead. “I am a citizen of Stormwind,” he said. “And damn proud of it. I’d filet myself before betraying my kingdom. And I’d rather face Damran than the shame of betraying my Queen.”

Luciana blinked. “Well said,” she said simply.

“Thank you,” Glen replied, a quirky smile on his lips for a moment. “I agree to all of this, of course,” he said. “Protection, payment, and travel to exotic places. And I get to service the Queen!” he chuckled. “Who’d refuse that?”

“I’m not Queen,” Luciana reminded him.

“You will be soon. Everyone knows it. We’re just waiting with bated breath for the King to announce his retirement.”

Luciana allowed him to see a small but genuine smile. “Yes, well, it’s been a long time coming. The old man deserves a rest.”

“If you don’t mind, where will we be travelling to?”

“Kalimdor.”

“Oh,” he said, eyes alight. “I’ve never left the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“There is one more thing,” Luciana said, interrupting his excitement. “I am a warrior,” she said. “A berserker. That can be dangerous. I’ve yet to truly lose control outside of combat, around my allies, but it could happen. I do have battle fatigue, and if I’m hit with a nightmare or a flashback I might lash out. You could be seriously injured, or killed.”

“You have healers on your guard, right?” he asked. “I know military healers can at least partially predict things like flashbacks and interrupt them before they get too involved.”

“I move too fast for that,” she chuckled. “If I was a tank, or at least not a berserker, maybe. You’ll also need to keep that part of it to yourself. People know about it already, but I don’t want a new rumour every time I have a bad dream.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding. “What should I do if you do have a nightmare while I’m present?”

“Get in the corner and keep your head down,” she said. “Make yourself small and unthreatening. Think like a chair, or a lamp. There, but in the background. When it wears down, you’ll know, and you can come out of it.”

“Alright. Should I fetch help?”

“No. It won’t get that bad.” She finished the last sip of whisky in her tumbler, and set it on the table next to her book. “Come here,” she said, gesturing him forward. He got to his feet and approached, and didn’t make a sound when she reached out and motioned him forward. Instead, he obediently placed a knee on the seat next to her hip, and then the other by her thigh. She inhaled slowly while she moved, sliding her hands slowly from his knees to his hips. 

Her gaze flickered from his leg to his crotch to his hands, which delicately and invitingly folded over hers while they moved to his waist as he curved forward and presented his throat to her. Her eyes landed on his mouth, then she met his gaze and inhaled slowly again, smiling languidly. “Promising,” she murmured. She let her gaze drop to his chest, and then she let the image of Anduin replace her view of Glen. Remembering Anduin’s scent, Glen’s similar enough for the illusion, she gripped his hips with bruising strength and pulled him down as she ground up into him. He inhaled sharply, his chin dropped, and her smile widened. “Definitely promising,” she muttered, and the pressure in her grip eased. “Did that hurt?”

“A bit.”

“Did you mind it?”

“Not if you do that again.” He was playful, but still professional. When she decided on disinterest and reclined in her chair again, letting her hands drop to her lap, he carefully climbed off her and returned to his chair only a couple of paces away.

She wasn’t sure she would have continued without Anduin’s approval - she still felt unsure, still felt as though she were doing something she shouldn’t, as though she were cheating him, hurting Anduin by intending pleasure to someone else through her touch - but the decision had been made for her. An SI:7 agent was outside the door, waiting for her signal. No doubt Glen’s presence had summoned the rogue.

“Enter,” she called. She recognized the rogue. “Breanne. Find him a shadow priest for a deep review.”

“Princess,” Breanne said, her unnaturally green eyes bright with mirth at some hidden joke. Luciana knew the source this time, at least. A deep review from a shadow priest could only mean one thing: someone was going to be involved with a Royal. 

Breanne was obviously familiar with Glen, or at least his mannerisms. The SI:7’s upper echelon and Royal guardians would likely know within the hour that Luciana intended to take a paramour. She didn’t really care. They knew how to be quiet.

“And send someone in with some food,” Luciana added, a bit plaintively. “I’m hungry.”

“Princess.”


	49. Roll Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!! I just wish I was. Here, have part of the thing I've been working on instead of my essays.

“The first order of business,” Luciana said. “Roll call.” Her eyes tracked around the room, eventually landing on the person standing at the seat directly to her right.

“Leon Servol. Advisor.” He offered her a private, proud smile. He would keep her on the right track when it came to her soldiers, and when it came time to make difficult decisions. Her eyes moved to the next person at the table. He knew her history, as well, and could take the heat off her when her actions confused her other advisors.

“Caslia Harrowmont. Advisor.” Luciana could see the cleverness in Caslia’s eyes. It had always been there. She would remind Luciana to keep the power of Parliament Major and the Noble House in mind.

“Dienekes Merod. Advisor.” The old Sea Wolf was missing three fingers and an eye, but he was still as sharp as his cutlass. He would prove invaluable with his eye for strategy and psychological warfare.

“Abria Lauden. Advisor.” Baroness of Eastvale and recently appointed to Parliament Minor, she would keep in mind the needs and demands of citizens in Elwynn and beyond.

“Tom Brady. Advisor.” Tom was actually a Professor of many years. Born into a farming family in Redridge, he was highly knowledgeable in any subject Luciana thought to bring up. His wisdom and numerous old friends would come in handy.

“Dean Khand. Captain of the Queen’s Guard and Advisor.” Son of the late Lieutenant Khand of Theramore, Dean’s eyes were hard and his youth was unfavourable, but his loyalty was unquestionable. She would be safe in his hands.

“James Colburn. Steward.” Luciana’s face remained impassive, but she did nod to James. She could easily recall his words. _I will serve you._ He was a soldier, tried and true, and she knew she could trust him to keep her internal affairs - and herself - organized. He wasn’t officially an advisor, but Luciana could take measure of her ideas by his reactions.

“Worrick Yarell. Seneschal.” He was born to a Gilnean merchant family that had taken up residence many years ago in Stormwind. He’d been raised in the city, and loved it more than anything. He would keep her operation’s affairs and personnel in good order.

“Lars Abelen. Queen’s Guard.” She did smile then. Lars was an old friend, but no one would think it seeing the cautious way he always seemed to watch her. It was not only out of respectful caution of her, but suspicion of everyone around her. Dean Khand was his Captain now, but Luciana was his Cap, and always would be. He was the only one of the late Amadeus Squadron to stand in on the meeting. He would represent the others in such matters with his sometimes abrasive and unrepentant manners.

“Isendir Shadewhisper. Queen’s Guard.” The night elf was one of the few non-humans in the room, but seemed completely unperturbed by that fact. He merely watched patiently, silently. Nearly a thousand years old, he’d seen quite a bit of life and would be able to fill any role she needed him to.

“Vindicator Lokaal. Queen’s Guard.” Lokaal was similar unbothered by the fact that he was surrounded almost in entirety by humans. He had come, at Luciana’s request, to remind her advisors that Stormwind was not the only member of the Alliance. When he had agreed to be present, he’d been wearing one of his rare smiles.

“Glen Stanton. Queen’s paramour.” He said it nonchalantly, not ashamed nor proud of his position. It was a statement of business, and to their credit, no one in the room looked at him twice. He gestured down to the dog standing next to his chair. “Shauna, Queen’s pet.” Shauna leaned her front paws on the table to look at the other people in the room, her ears perked and her head barely visible over the edge of the table. Her nose worked as she sniffed. Tom could be heard chuckling quietly.

“Melasya Redrion. Treasurer.” They would keep accurate count of everything from sugars cubes to funds, and do it well. They’d been a banker in the naval trade industry for year and would keep Luciana’s operations afloat. They’d also manage Luciana’s tendency to spoil her children.

“Hawk. SI:7 liaison.” Hawk would keep them in touch with the Stormwind Command Center and the SI:7 network. They couldn’t chance losing her.

“Orion Avvara. Queen’s physician.” Orion was an old Wildhammer shaman with bright white hair that contrasted the two identical black raven tattoos that stretched from jaw to temples, framing her wild blue eyes. She’d keep Luciana in good health, both physical and mental. She was one of the few allowed to give her orders without offense, and one of the only non-human people in that group.

“Vim Tinkerbomb, here to represent the Engineer’s League on all matters mechanical!” The perky and sometimes rather cheeky gnome, always with a messy pink bun and oil-stained leather goggles, would work with her team of experts to keep the machinery and hardware of Luciana’s forces in working order. Soon, it would be her job to keep Luciana abreast of any developments in biochanics.

“Leodre Mulligan, arcane advisor and representative of the city-state of Dalaran.” Leodre was generally a serious, assiduous man. He’d studied the Arcane school of magic for many years, and had a solid hold on portals as well. In emergencies it would be his charge to make sure Luciana had a safe escape, whether through a portal or through a hole in the wall.

“Ahli Morrigan. Record keeper.” Ahli, while not the most powerful mage, was clever with her enchantments. She would take everything down in writing, for everything from supply management to future reference. There would be two copies of everything - one that would be publicly known, and one that only she and Luciana would know about. If there were discrepancies, there would be evidence of a traitor. Also, if there was an emergency, there would be backup copies of everything important.

“Marcellus Amadeus. Liaison to the King.” It was odd to hear Wrathion’s smooth tones in Marcellus’ voice, but Luciana kept the slight grimace from her face. It had been Anduin’s idea, but Wrathion had promised to keep the personal messages between her and Anduin safe and secret, and so he sat at her left. Thus far he’d kept his word and hadn’t caused trouble, nor had he given them cause to believe he was a spy or interested in controlling the state. Luciana still didn’t trust him, but this would be his ultimate chance to prove her mistrust was misplaced. She didn’t intend to let him anywhere near her daughter until Freya voluntarily wanted his company. His innate magic could seriously upset the sensitive child.

“Luciana Wrynn,” she said, finishing the roll call. “The next time we gather, I will be Queen of Stormwind and its temporary Commander in Chief.”

“Always knew you’d turn out well,” Leon quipped.

“Too volatile for a ship,” Dienekes commented, his voice rough from years of abuse. “Too heavy for submariner. Stout enough for land.”

“I knew you would be Queen, seeing as you’re already Princess,” Caslia said smoothly with a coy smile that didn’t match her clever gaze. “But I never thought I’d have the privilege of sitting at your table of advisors.”

“We will serve you well,” James promised quietly. “Because we know you will lead us well.”

“Looking forward to the future,” Tom added. “And a change of scenery.”

“That’s the reason I opted in,” Glen laughed.

Shauna shoved her head against Luciana’s hand, and she looked down. The boxer terrier was ten years old now and had the grey in her muzzle to show for it, but she was energetic and goofy as always.

“Take your seats,” Luciana commanded, waiting until they were all seated before she copied them. “Dean, is the Queen’s Guard prepped and ready?”

“Waiting on your word, Your Highness,” he answered. “Keeping our heads down until the coronation, and keeping our eyes open for more recruits. Officers have been sworn in.”

“Good. James?”

“All plans have been approved. All that remains is for the Prophet Velen to sign off on the land outside the Exodar. A messenger was dispatched, but I received the Prophet’s reply a day later and recalled the messenger. He knew our plans already.” Luciana nodded. 

“To be expected,” she said. “Worrick?”

“Personnel have all been briefed and sworn in,” he said. “As well as sworn to secrecy. Some giggles from the younger ones, but they’re all good hands. Within a few months they’ll be done their business here, and with the order to move, we’ll be ready.”

“Good. Melasya?”

“I’ve got working estimates for everything you’ve drawn up,” they replied. “Plans for a secure vault system, thanks in large part to Vim, as well as fund planning for the larger projects and your personal uses.”

“Good. Hawk?”

“Good to go.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to.

“Good. Vim?”

“Can’t wait! Everything’s all set up in pieces here and there, we’re hiding it in like nooks ‘n crannies all over the place! Like you asked. We’ll keep gathering good stuff and weird stuff while we’re going, although some stuff needs to be fresh like oil and gunpowder and rations and stuff so that’ll need to be gathered a couple of weeks before we go. Also I’ve got some mages now so we can just portal the big stuff in, save big on shipping and handling.”

“Good.” Luciana’s smile was merely a quirk of the lips, but it was still a smile. “Leodre?”

“I’ve gathered spellwork for storage, security, and record-keeping,” he said evenly. “Ahli’s books will be safe. The reference library is still in progress, but it will be done long before the move.”

“Good. Ahli?”

“Already started writing, Your Highness,” Ahli responded. There was a quill scratching into a book near her head. Both were enchanted. “I’ve cross-referenced our current supply count with what you ordered. Everything checks out.”

“Good.” Luciana nodded. “While we’re in here, King Varian will announce to the city and to the world that in only a few months, he will step down from the throne. He will hand the Crown of Stormwind to Prince Anduin, and I will step up with him. There will be a frantic race to prepare,” she said, “followed by a ceremony and then a week of celebration. By the end of those few months, you’ll all need to be ready to pick up and leave immediately after the celebrations. The day after they end I will make the announcement that we’re moving the center of military command to Kalimdor - to Azuremyst - and that night, we start the move with whatever can be done stealthily. Anduin will publicly and loudly voice his support for my decisions, but we don’t need to linger. We need to seem completely efficient, and get the hell out of his way. He’ll be busy with the University District, Westfall, and helping the Greymanes retake Gilneas. You’ve all been briefed on that?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Vim said.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean echoed.

There were various other agreements, and Luciana nodded again. “Good. Now,” she said, standing, bracing her hands on the table. “There is something I want to make completely and abundantly clear. You’ve all agreed to a paradigm shift. To chase peace instead of dominion.” Her gaze slid steadily around the table. “When we’re securely in Kalimdor, I will begin true efforts at making peace with the Horde. We don’t yet know that they’ll talk, but I have a strong feeling that once they see us and what we’re up to, they’ll talk, at least to assure that we’re not setting up to try and take Orgrimmar or Thunder Bluff.”

“Peace with the Horde?” Dean said lowly. “The same Horde that dropped a mana bomb on Theramore?”

“No,” Luciana said firmly, but her gaze on Dean was full of understanding. He looked away from it. “That was Hellscream’s Horde, the same Hellscream that started that mess on Draenor, that collided two timelines together and in doing so doubled our chances of being invaded by the Legion. No, our Horde, Azeroth’s Horde, is made up of people, just like our Alliance. They have families, and children, just as we do, and they want the chance to be happy and safe, just as we do. That is the Horde with whom we will try to find peace.”

“The Prince agreed to this?” Leon asked evenly.

“The Prince was the one to convince me it was a good idea,” Luciana said with a short, sharp laugh. “This world, our world, is constantly at war with itself. The Alliance is strong, and the Horde is strong, and by opposing each other we make ourselves weak. We destroy each other and do nothing but further the cycle of violence and hatred and fear. If we are to survive the Legion, we must break that cycle.”

“Why talk about the Legion?” Dienekes asked. “Why not the Old Gods? Or the naga? I can’t be the only one who remembers Vashj’ir.”

“No one could forget that,” she said, nodding to him. “But the Legion is the biggest threat.” Luciana smiled grimly. “If Azeroth is threatened, all of its inhabitants, whether Horde or Alliance, centaur or murlocs, will fight. But only if we’re not too busy fighting each other. I really don’t think the naga are interested in an alliance,” she chuckled, mirrored by several other people. “But certainly if the two largest factions on Azeroth can band together, we can repel the Legion. One day we will be free of the looming threat of demonic possession and the corrupting fel fires of the Legion, and on that day we _will_ turn to the naga and the Elder Gods. But it takes a strong heart and faith that the Light will prevail.” She inhaled slowly. The scents of her inner circle were mixing in the still air of the room. She put it aside. She wasn’t familiar yet with them all and the scents were overwhelming if she tried to differentiate them.

“The Light _will_ prevail,” Lokaal said softly, firmly. “We must do our duty and fight to see it dawn.”

Luciana nodded to him solemnly. “We must follow the teachings of the Light if we are to survive the coming of the Legion,” she said. “Respect. Tenacity. _Compassion_ ,” she said emphatically. “We cannot blind ourselves to the suffering of others. If we can ally with a race of Light-blessed aliens from a world too far away to see in our night sky, why can we not find peace with Azeroth’s own people? What is preventing us from befriending them, aside from our own inability to let go of the past and take hold of the future?”

“Hear, hear,” Dienekes said, only a little sarcastically. “It’ll be harder than that. But you’re right. No offense to you, Lokaal, but the draenei are literally aliens, and we like them well enough. But orcs? Princess, people are still alive who saw the orcs invade. I’m one of them.”

“Would you bid me to destroy my children’s futures because you remember the orcs who drank demon blood?” Luciana asked. “The fel orcs who no longer exist here? Only their memory lingers in Azerothian orcs. Those of Orgrimmar have returned to their old ways, the ways of the shaman. I can’t speak of their individuals but I know from Commander Celia’s reports from Lunarfall, along with my own encounters with orcs, that they are not the crazed monsters that invaded Azeroth. They are a proud and fierce race of warriors and shaman who want nothing more than a place they can truly call home. Their home world is gone,” she said, “like that of the draenei. Azeroth is their home now, as it is ours. We can either step up and be good neighbours, or we can brick their windows and start a war. Another war,” she corrected.

“Peace with the Horde,” Leon said. “That’s what you want?”

“That is what we need,” she corrected. “We can’t fight a two-sided war. We need to be strong, and united, when the Legion returns.”

“How do you know they’ll return?” Caslia asked.

“Demons do not abandon the hunt,” she said softly. “And their masters are very angry that Azeroth has repelled them so successfully thus far. They’ve already had their crosshairs set on the draenei for too many years to count. Add to that the fact that we slew Archimonde both in our timeline and in the other, as well as dozens of their most high-ranking officers, and we can safely conclude that they want our world gone. Not dead, not destroyed. Gone. As though we never existed.” She snorted, raised her chin and surveyed her inner circle. “I will fight until my bones are dust to keep them away from my home, but the Alliance cannot do it alone, and certainly not while fending off the Horde. No. We must cooperate, and to do that we have to let go of past grudges and hatred and fear, and find common ground with the other half of Azeroth.”

“You’ll put yourself in danger for this?” Abria asked. “Put our Queen in danger?”

“We are all in danger every day,” Luciana responded. “I can’t lock myself in a tower while my people are being invaded, marauded, slaughtered, captured...” she trailed off. “I’ve already been tortured in all sorts of creative ways, and I escaped and killed those who kept me from my home. They won’t try it again. The Horde certainly won’t risk angering the Alliance when they’re still recovering from the sacking of Orgrimmar, the draughts from the Cataclysm, and the more recent effects of fighting a two-sided war on another world, in another timeline.”

“You said that it was Prince Anduin’s idea?” Leon asked.

“It was his idea,” Luciana confirmed. “I’m a warrior. My solutions for such problems mostly involve throwing myself into the middle of things and having a good time.” She earned a few chuckles for her quip. “But he is a priest. He is a true follower of the Light, has been studying it diligently for many years and has always tried to be respectful, to be tenacious and compassionate even to those who called him enemy. Even to those that hurt him. He sees the humanity in all peoples,” she said. “He believes it is the right of all sentient beings to live, to learn, to be safe, and to find happiness. 

“The vision that he has for the future of Azeroth is one where we do not have to question whether we’ll wake up tomorrow,” Luciana continued. “A vision that I share. One where children are not murdered for the actions of their parents. I will give my all to make that vision true,” she said. “To destroy the world that tries so hard to destroy us, and to remake Azeroth as a beacon of the Light’s tenants. We will be better,” she said. “Our children will have a better world. But we must see peace as the noblest of goals and seek it with determination greater than that of the Old Gods. And we must be willing to fight our own hatred to sustain it.”

“We stand with you,” Tom said. “I’m tired of war. Tired of hearing about more death, more loss.”

“It’s time to create rather than destroy,” Abria added. “But where will we find the supplies? We can’t cut down all of Elwynn.”

“No. We will turn to Draenor,” Luciana said. “We will not strip it of its riches, we will not push the Draenor clans into a desperate war for survival, but we will dismantle all that once held the mark of the Iron Horde. We will use its corpse to power our sky ships, to build a University, to create sustainable and secure homes and to replace what has been destroyed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tom said before turning to Leodre. “What about Dalaran? Are you still neutral, or are you going to turn around and spy on us? I know Lady Proudmoore isn’t as fond of the Horde as she used to be.”

Leodre took a moment to gather his response. “War is unsustainable,” he said. “And hatred and pride are destructive. I will not impede the Queen’s work, nor will I spy on you. I am here to advise her in her operations, to provide security and spellwork, and to keep the interests of the mage city in mind. I am not here to destroy what little chance of victory this world has against the Legion.” With that, he nodded to Luciana. “As I told you, Your Highness. I believe that what you and the Prince are planning is our best hope of survival.”

“I remember well what you said, Leodre,” Luciana answered. “I remember what you’ve all said to me. That’s why you’re here. I’m going to say it plainly,” she said. “Stormwind, and through us the Alliance, will find peace with the Horde and hopefully, an alliance with them. We will not have approval from all of the faction leaders of the Alliance. Certainly not right away,” she said. 

“That is why I am here,” Isendir said quietly, but his voice carried easily. “I will carry your words to the High Priestess when it is time, and I will convince her that your path is the proper one.”

Luciana nodded to him. “I hope you can,” she said to Isendir. “High Priestess Tyrande’s military expertise and experience would be invaluable against the Legion. I know she’s fought them before, and she’s still standing. I think that’s the kind of example we want to follow.” She earned another quiet round of chuckles. “It won’t be easy,” she warned. “But we’re going to do it anyway. Humans have short lives compared to many of our allies,” she said with a smile. “Night elves were, not so long ago, actually immortal. Draenei can live for over ten thousand years. Dwarves reach middle age at around one hundred and fifty years. Even unhealthy gnomes live to about a hundred and thirty. Humans live to eighty.”

“Ninety, if we really try,” Leon joked.

“We’ve got very little besides our hard heads,” she said, smiling at Leon for a moment. “But we’ve gotten pretty far with that. Our collective memory is about six hundred years, and even that’s shoddy at best. We tend to focus on the present, and look to the future. The past can take a hold of us easily, but we can shake it easily. And I intend for the humans of Stormwind to lead the charge into a prosperous future free of war.”

“And what of Gilneas?” Worrick asked.

“Prince Anduin and I have not shared our plans with Princess Tess or Prince Deacon as of yet,” she answered. “But Tess and I are close friends, and I know her heart as well as she knows mine. Gilneas will walk at Stormwind’s side.”

Worrick nodded once. “Good. I’d prefer the worgen to be on our side.”

“They will be,” Luciana said with a crooked smile. “Trust me. They will be.”

“We do trust you,” Dienekes said. “Might ultimately prove to be a mistake, but I’ll be damned if I let the Queen run off on her own without a good Sea Wolf at her side.”

“Thank you,” she said, nodding to him solemnly. She was only one of many who knew the value of a true Stormwind Sea Wolf. “Now. There is another matter I would like to clarify. One which you’ve likely heard of through rumours, and whispers.” Isendir’s eyes were unblinking, and she met them for only a moment. “When I was in Darkshire, I was bitten numerous times by feral worgen.”

“I heard the rumours,” Caslia said. “We all have.”

“Yes, well,” Luciana said. “I’m immune to the curse.”

“How can that be?” Worrick asked past his impressive mustache, brow furrowed. “No one’s been able to fight it off. Not even infection from a little scratch of the claws can be beaten without the aid of an experienced healer who’s dealt with the curse before.”

“I am the scion of Goldrinn,” Luciana said. “It was a hard journey, and I suffered for it. While I was traveling Kalimdor with my squadron, we stayed at the Shrine of Goldrinn. And there, I learned to use the power of his blessing. I am his scion,” she said. “Just as King Varian is Lo’gosh, I am the Ghost Wolf. I intend to use this fact to our advantage. Orcs think very highly of their view of the Ghost Wolf, of the hunter’s instincts. I will use this to bridge the gap between orc and human, and through us, between Horde and Alliance.”

“But their current Warchief is a troll,” Worrick pointed out.

Luciana smiled ferally. “And he knows exactly what it will mean to me when I return to the Barrens. Even if it wasn’t them, it was on their land.”

The room grew cold with her snarling smile. Only Lars was brave enough to speak through it. “You gonna wander again off this time, or actually stay where you’re supposed to?” he asked, and Leon snorted a laugh. With that sound, the tension in the room broke.

“We’ve got some plans to solidify,” Luciana admitted, her smile easing into a friendlier one.


	50. Victory! Victory!

Anduin had held his gathering of advisors at the same time as Luciana, in a different part of the Keep. When they’d rejoined afterward in the throne room, it had been packed so tightly with people that even Luciana had had a hard time pushing her way through. She’d been careful - she didn’t want to hurt anyone - but she’d wanted to get through, and she did.

Varian stood before the throne on its raised dais, regarding his people with eagle eyes. The throne room was buzzing with noise, but still somehow silent. He held his hands out and Luciana and Anduin, his chosen heirs, climbed the stairs to stand just below him, facing him. They’d already come up with a brief scenario, and followed the script.

“Anduin and Luciana,” Varian said. His voice echoed in the circular room, and a sudden hush fell, quieting even the murmurs. “It is time for you to take the throne and bear the Crown.”

“I will bear the Royal Sceptre,” Anduin said.

“I will bear the Sword of Wrynn,” Luciana said.

“Will you bear the title of King?” Varian asked, looking at Anduin. “Will you uphold your oaths to the people of Stormwind, to her provinces, her territories, her allies?”

“I will.” Anduin’s voice was clear, his eyes more so.

“Will you bear the title of Queen?” Varian asked, turning to Luciana. “Will you uphold your oaths to the people of Stormwind, to her provinces, her territories, her allies?”

“I will,” Luciana echoed, her voice deeper, and carrying well.

Varian smiled softly. “Then, let it be known. On the fifth day of August, in the 52nd year after the Fall of Stormwind, in the 644th year of the King’s Calendar, Anduin Wrynn shall be your King, and Luciana Wrynn shall be your Queen!”

Varian raised his hands in the air, and the throne room nearly exploded from the force of the cheering. Luciana scowled, her nose crinkling in aggravation she directed at the great stone lion she was facing. Even before she’d taken Goldrinn’s blessing, the noise would’ve at best severely irritated her.

When she turned with Anduin to face the people, she smoothed her face into a calmer expression. Varian’s hand landed on her left shoulder. She felt Anduin’s cool fingers on her right hand, something they hadn’t put into the script, and she gently took his hand. This only exacerbated the cheering, and while Luciana wished they’d be silent for the sake of her ear drums, she understood why they were cheering. Things hadn’t always gone so well for Stormwind.

Since she’d been named Princess, Duskwood and Westfall had both in their own right seen an age of prosperity and growth, and the people’s severely flagging confidence in the Royal House had grown. Stormwind’s veterans, brothers and sisters of her citizens, had received care they’d desperately needed. 

Luciana had birthed three Royal children, seen the friendships between Stormwind and a number of her allies old and new strengthened. She’d performed what felt like miracles in her military career, and her return to Stormwind after nearly a year of being thought dead would be remembered for many generations in song and even in theatre. She had kept her oath to fight for the people of Stormwind.

Since his coming of age and his marriage to Luciana, Anduin had focused on Westfall and the people who’d gathered there. They’d been broken and without hope even before he’d been named Regent King at ten. He’d seen to the rebirth of its farmlands, had produced three Royal heirs and brought the promise of the Light, of hope. His father had been a warrior, and Varian’s fury had been necessary. 

But Anduin’s Light had proved a welcome reprieve for the younger generations of Stormwind, who’d had little hope for their future before him. With his growth through the years the people had seen the mirror of their wishes for a peaceful future. With his wisdom that reached far past his years and his bright and curious spirit, he’d led them while their King was acting as their shield in Draenor. He’d kept his oath to the people of Stormwind, and they knew now that he would lead them well.

And after Varian’s proclamation, one that matched the greater announcement he’d made not an hour prior, the people who’d managed to cram themselves into the throne room celebrated. The doors had been temporarily gated off to prevent the Keep from being completely filled like a can of sardines, but they’d be reopened soon. 

Luciana and Anduin stepped down to join them, and to her surprise - though it really shouldn’t have surprised her - Luciana was immediately and abruptly handed a small child who was so distraught by the noise that their eyes had completely glazed over and they had fallen almost completely slack. She kissed the child’s forehead like their mother had wanted, and handed them back.

“Your child cannot handle this much excitement. Take them outside now,” she’d warned before turning around to face the mass of bodies and ecstatic faces that greeted her. She wanted to make sure the child was safe, but she couldn’t take the time to force them to leave, no matter how much she wanted to drag them outside herself. She was no longer in a position to focus on one. She had to force herself now to think of the many, and let those she commanded worry over the smaller numbers.

Luciana found herself smiling crookedly despite herself and despite the noise, not minding the way it pulled at the scars on her jaw. “To Luciana!” someone cheered. “To the Oathkeeper!”

“Oathkeeper!” they were echoed, and soon the chamber was full of cheers again. Luciana felt a laugh bubble in her chest and it nearly surprised her so much she swallowed it, but instead she let it out, laughing as people jostled her and screamed the name they’d given her, the name that echoed what was so important to her that she’d named her sword for it.

“Oathkeeper!”

“Luciana Wrynn!”

“Princess!”

She and Anduin had agreed to split up during this stage of the excitement, to allow more people to see and interact with them as two units instead of one. She could hear his name echoing off the far wall.

“Anduin!”

“Prince Anduin!”

She had a hard time keeping her mental countdown, but after close to ten minutes, she turned to look at Anduin. She could easily see through the mass of people, as she was quite a bit taller than over half of Stormwind’s population. And, when people saw her looking, they moved out of the way. Her smile never fading, she waded through the crowds that thinned in front of her to rejoin Anduin in the middle of the throne room. Varian, standing still on the throne’s raised dais, watched them, apparently forgotten in the revelries.

“Princess Luciana!” someone cried, grabbing her arm. She looked at them and saw a familiar, short young man with wiry, taught muscles and an angular face. Long ago, when they’d first met, he’d been called Mary. Luciana wondered if he still went by that name. “Princess!” he screamed again, nearly crying in his excitement. She reached up, cupped the back of his head, and pulled him forward to kiss his forehead. At that, he did start crying, openly sobbing. He said what could have been a thank you, if not for the noise, and fell away into the crowds. Luciana kept moving. 

“Kiss him!” someone to her left yelled when she was close enough to Anduin to reach out and grab him. She laughed, seeing the redness in his ears. He’d heard them, too. She raised both eyebrows, asking, and he smiled and laughed, nodding slightly. Satisfied with that answer, Luciana hooked an arm around his waist, wrapped her other hand around the back of his neck, pulled him flush to her, and kissed him. There was a swell in the cheering, some wolf-whistling thrown in for good measure. Anduin was laughing outright when she released him, changing her hold on him. She slid her hand down his back to his waist, holding him to her side instead so that they could both face the crowds from the center of the throne room. She felt his hand land on the small of her back, where they both knew there rested a small patch of unscarred, sensitive skin, and she smiled.

It took some effort, but when Luciana and Anduin turned, releasing their hold on each other to face Varian, the crowds fell silent. “Take your celebrations into the streets!” Varian said, his voice booming, his smile wide. “Tell everyone you meet that on August fifth, you shall have your new King and Queen! Share that date with all you see! Send letters to your families in Redridge and Duskwood. Send letters to your friends in Kalimdor and Pandaria and Northrend. Bring your joy to Westfall and the Swamps. Tell everyone that Stormwind’s Royal House will once again be full!”

The doors to the Keep were unbarred, the smiling ranks of Royal Guards moving aside. People went screaming outside in droves, like a dam had broken. A good number remained behind, talking to each other, to strangers, and to Luciana and Anduin.

“Where’s Princess Freya?”

“Is she coming home? Soon? Is she safe?”

“Are you going to do something about Damran?”

“The war’s ended. What now? What’re the soldiers and heroes going to do now?”

“My sister disappeared to Westfall years ago. Can you find her?”

“Can I take a selfie with you?”

Anduin held his hand up for silence. “Peace, friends,” he said laughingly. “These are all good questions, and in time, they’ll all receive answers. For now, though, why don’t we answer a few?” He looked to Luciana.

“I think we can take a selfie,” she laughed, and the eager young man brought up his camera, leaned back, and grinned widely into it. Anduin and Luciana were smiling above his shoulders and with a click and a brief, blinding flash, the man whooped loudly and bounced away.

“Now then,” Luciana said, still smiling crookedly. “Princess Freya is safe,” she said, “and healthy, now that she is in a place where her needs are being met.” She looked around, taking a moment to survey the people crowding her. “She is in the Exodar, where the Light of the Naaru O’ros can carefully guide her own Light until she is strong enough to stand on her own.”

“Light?” someone asked. “Already? She’s only two, isn’t she?”

“She is two and a half years old,” Luciana said. “And yes, her Light is already manifesting. It’s delicate, and can be smothered easily, which is why we have left her in the safe hands of Enaeon Lightheart of the late Amadeus Squadron.” There was a murmur of approval at the mention of Amadeus’ healer. “She has only the best childcare available, the best child healers and caretakers. She has the same level of tutors that her brothers do and we have full confidence in the Exodar’s abilities to protect and raise children, whether draenei or human. Plus,” Luciana said, “I’m hoping she’ll curb Enaeon’s habit to make terrible and barely legible puns.” There was some laughter in response to that, and she turned to Anduin. “As for Damran...” she trailed off.

“Damran is not something for us to deal with,” Anduin said, “as they do not obey any Azerothian law books. Save for their guild master, Gadreel of the Glory Seekers, they do not bow to any authority. The Glory Seekers are an Alliance guild, and that is the best we can get when it comes to Damran.”

“They ate my father!” someone shrieked from the back of the crowd.

“You have our sincere condolences,” Anduin said, true remorse in his face. “I know what it is to lose a father. We are not strangers to loss,” he said, glancing to Luciana, whose face had fallen into a serious expression, almost a scowl. The mood shift was reflected in the quietness of the crowds before them. “However, as I said, Damran does not obey any Azerothian law, and that is because they are too powerful to control and we cannot force them to obey. However, Damran does not lie. If you meet them, ask if they will grant you one favour. They will say yes, and then, you can tell them to leave you and your family alone. They will.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary!”

“But it is,” Luciana said before Anduin could respond. Her voice was firm, unyielding. She was the Queen now, even before the title was hers. “Damran is a monster, we know. We’ve seen every report on every incident, every attack, every horror they’ve committed. But Damran is a creature of Azeroth unlike any other we’ve seen. They are powerful, more so than I or Anduin, more so than even Archmage Khadgar, student of the late Medivh. The fact that they have any rules at all that they’re willing to play by is something we’re thankful for. If you truly fear that Damran will target you, petition Gadreel. They will obey her will, if she gives them an order.”

“What about the soldiers?” someone said, repeating their earlier question. A woman in the front of the crowd nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, what about them?” she asked. “The war’s over. What’re we supposed to do now? There are already some places that have shut down from the drop in business.”

“We have plans already to keep Stormwind from crashing,” Anduin said soothingly, a calm smile on his handsome face. “Reconstruction of the city’s Old Barracks will begin next week, including new work available in Westfall in both granite and stone quarries, and by the end of August, another project will have started.”

The woman nodded, satisfied with that answer. She was replaced only a moment later by an older man with a Gilnean accent.

“And Gilneas?” he demanded. “When will we retake our lands from those accursed Forsaken?”

“Soon,” Luciana promised darkly. “Very soon. I will take care of that matter when I speak before the Starred Commanders. I will take the words of your rulers and voice them very loudly, indeed. And when the time comes and the Greymane Court moves, Stormwind will march with them.”

“Good.” The man smiled wickedly at her. “Your reputation is well-known, Princess. I am confident now that we will be able to return home before we forget that we had one to begin with.”

She nodded her head, nearly a bow. “Stormwind does not forget the woes of her allies, sir,” she said.

In the Greymane Wing, Genn had given his own version of Varian’s speech. Luciana was expecting large crowds to spill in soon from that area of the Keep, but she wasn’t expecting the streamers or the music. Stormwind musicians had brought their own flair and brassy trumpets to the Gilnean celebrations. Cheeky fiddles and hand drums accompanied whoever it was that was belting out a cheery version of _Victoria! Victoria!_. It was a very old tune from what used to be a province of the kingdom of Azeroth, now the Burning Steppes, but Stormwind never really forgot a song.

“Tess!” Luciana crowed, looking past Anduin to see Tess being toted around on a sturdy wooden chair held up by a handful of random people. She ducked her head slightly to kiss Anduin’s cheek, creating a short window for people to wolf whistle again, and then slipped through the crowd like an eel through seaweed to get to Tess. “Jump down!” Luciana cried over the music, beckoning to Tess. She couldn’t see Deacon anywhere. He’d probably gotten lost in the crowds.

“Are you crazy?!” Tess screamed, holding onto the chair for dear life. She was scared of heights, Luciana remembered, and the roiling crowds must’ve reminded her of the stormy seas she’d once fallen into.

“I’ll catch you!” Luciana laughed. “Promise!”

At that guarantee Tess grimaced, braced herself, and then launched herself forward. Luciana caught her easily, Tess’ weight next to nothing to Luciana’s strength. “Don’t!” Tess warned, seeing a familiar look of mischief on Luciana’s face.

“Too late,” Luciana said, right before she spun around with Tess in her arms like she was dancing.

 _“Luciana, put me down!”_ Tess hissed, and Luciana laughed. She had spotted Deacon near the throne’s dais, and was bringing Tess right to him. Too busy clinging to her neck, Tess didn’t see her husband until they were right in front of him. “Oh, hello Deacon, dear,” Tess said, her hair mussed from the excitement and her desperate bid for freedom from the airborne chair.

“Hello, dear,” Deacon replied, holding his hand out as though helping her from a carriage. “Would you like a hand down?”

“Oh, certainly,” Tess replied. “This damn horse is too tall for my likes.”

Luciana only laughed and set Tess down gently. She kissed Tess’ cheek, and then reached over to shake Deacon’s hand firmly. “Glad you could make it,” Luciana said to him warmly, and he gave her a small but genuine smile.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Your husband might get a mite jealous of us though. He’s looking for you.”

Luciana waved at Deacon as she turned. She spotted Anduin easily - his coat was a bright blue that matched his eyes, and the people around him gave him a respectful space they didn’t afford to each other.

Luciana wrapped her arm around his waist when she rejoined him. “Did you miss me?” she teased, barely heard over the crowds.

“Not at all,” Anduin replied, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Are you jealous that I held Tess and not you?” Luciana asked.

“Not at all,” Anduin replied, smirking. “D’you think we should bring out the food now?”

“Yes, I’m starved.”

The people around them did hear that last bit, and started to cheer even before Anduin raised his arm and motioned to the Royal Guards. The doors that led deeper into the Keep opened and the throne room was soon flooded with the rich scents of good food.

“Let’s make our escape now,” Anduin murmured in Luciana’s ear, knowing that she could hear him. “The horses are waiting outside the Valley.”

She nodded. “I had my cousin go ahead,” she said, and they both knew she was talking about Wrathion. “Let’s go, before we get caught up again.”

“I briefed Tess on our plans,” Anduin said as they made their escape into the Royal Wing. Luciana would have to equip her armour before leaving for Westfall, as she wouldn’t be safe in the tense political climate there. “She’ll keep the people here distracted for a little while.”

“Good old Tess,” Luciana chuckled, keeping her grip on her husband tight. She didn’t want to lose him in the crowds occupying the Keep.


	51. "When this is done, bring me home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we move into Westfall, like we moved into Darkshire.

Luciana and Anduin hurried through the city’s back ways, empty now that the streets were full of revelers of all shapes and backgrounds. Anduin jogged lightly on his feet, and Luciana did too despite the heavy plate armour she wore. The mantle of dark forest bear fur around her neck topped a heavy and thick cape. She didn’t have much choice - she had to leave with her armour already equipped. There were some things they had to do before official planning for the coronation got too busy, and for most of them she would need her armour. The danger of being assassinated had at least tripled now that it was official that she would soon be Queen. Soon, neither of them would be able to leave the Keep. Soon they would both be too busy entertaining guests, envoys, and emissaries to do much else.

But right now, before Luciana would join with the disguised Wrathion and the envoy Anduin had cobbled together for Westfall, they had a few moments to steal. Luciana tugged at Anduin, and he turned and she let him push her closer to the wall of the Gates of Stormwind and press against the smooth front of her armour, voice muffled against her mouth.

She clutched at him with one hand, the other holding her helm, and lost her breath in the kiss, inhaled through her nose and scented him. She dragged him forward until his hips were angled just right against her and her and if it weren’t for the metal encasing her, her pulse would’ve started to pound in her crotch. He broke the kiss for a moment, panting, and then she tugged at him again and he moaned into her mouth. “If we had five minutes I’d fuck you,” Luciana muttered, panted, between kisses.

“If we had five minutes and less tin can I would,” Anduin replied, tapping her breastplate with his knuckles, and then he breathed a quiet moan when she broke away to mouth at his neck, licking at his throat. “Enough,” he murmured, but he didn’t push her away, even burying his hand in her hair and tilting his head. “You can hide arousal, but I get an awkward guest.”

That made her chuckle against his throat, and she backed off after pulling his head down for one more brief, hard kiss. “Give the twins plenty of kisses,” she murmured against his lips. “Make sure Varian doesn’t try to bump his big schnozz into our business.”

“It’s not that big,” Anduin laughed.

“It’s been broken at least three times. It’s pretty big,” Luciana said with a crooked smile. “I love you. I’ll be home soon, my light.”

“Don’t kill your cousin,” Anduin murmured, running his hand through her short hair. “And be safe, my love.”

“I will.” She kissed him one more time, softly this time, and savoured the feel of his mouth slanted against hers.

Then, regret on his face, Anduin stepped back and straightened his coat. Luciana didn’t need to straighten anything, as she’d forgone her tabard for the trip. The cool weather was quite pleasant for her but she could see that it was already chilling her husband despite his coat. 

“I love you,” Anduin murmured, taking her hand gently for a moment. She didn’t feel it, but she gave his fingers a very careful squeeze anyway.

She offered him a soft smile. “I know. I love you, too.” He held onto her hand, lingering. When he released her, she could tell how much he didn’t want to. 

“I hate that you have to leave all the damn time,” he said. “But I know you’ll always come back.”

“And I always leave you in good company,” she added. “I won’t be long, my light. Not this time.”

“You’d better not be,” he warned. “I can’t be crowned King if my Queen isn’t there at my side. Finish your business, and when it’s done, stay by my side and let your Officers do their job.”

“Just a few things left to do,” she said. She smiled widely for a moment. And then, before it became impossible to leave again and before he caught a cold from the chilly spring air, she turned on her heel. She marched out of the back alley, and into the proud arches of the Gates of Stormwind.

Her squadron, not really Amadeus anymore but still hers, was waiting just beyond the Gates. They occupied the great court that sat at the front end of the bridge. It was a gargantuan stone piece that spanned the entire length of the Valley of Heroes, and Luciana remembered clear as day the celebrations she’d held there right after marrying Anduin. 

General Hammond Clay was eyeing her group warily from atop his proud Charger, but at Luciana’s arrival he snapped off a crisp salute, his back straightening. “Princess Luciana!” he greeted loudly. “It is an honour to see you here today!”

“Did you hear the announcement?” she asked.

“I did, Your Highness!”

“Good.” She smiled, and gave his armoured calf a pat as she passed by. He gazed down at her with wide eyes, hand slowly falling away from his face and back to the horn of his saddle, where it rested next to the loose reins. His horse was well-trained and didn’t need a constant pressure on the bit. “We’re off to Westfall,” she told him. “I’m sure you’ve heard?”

“I was briefed,” he said, brow furrowing impressively. “But, Your Highness, I would strongly advise against it, for however many hides that’s worth. It’s dangerous over there, even with the recent reconstructions. People are angry, and it’s full of traitors and potential assassins.”

“Those angry people are my citizens, General,” she said reproachfully, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish. “Ones who’ve suffered more than anyone, save perhaps the King himself, from Onyxia’s secret reign of terror. We owe them for the trouble we’ve allowed to befall them. This is only the first step of many.”

“If you say so,” he said. “At least I know you’ll be in good hands.” He nodded to the collection of people Anduin had gathered for her. Five Royal Guards stood by three SI:7 agents, some of the best people from the collection of the most skilled individuals in the kingdom. The remains of Amadeus was there as well - Lars, Daniel, Lawrence, Chris, Kain, Lokaal, and Naemete and Isendir. There were also a handful of adventurers that Anduin had hand-picked for her. He’d given Luciana a brief run-down on them, and she was sure she’d discover more about them on the way to and from Westfall. 

Niall, a human shadow priest of the guild Wanderlust, stood beside a stout dwarf from the same group named Thane - a paladin, not very skilled in healing but certainly skilled as a shield bearer. There were two night elf warriors who moved easily together. Luciana recognized Lureith from her return to Stormwind years ago, and nodded briefly to her with a smile. She returned it, deepening the nod into a bow. Beside her was her brother, Nhenas. 

The group was complimented by Silver Crowe, a mage of no small renown who was always dressed to kill. Burt Worester, a Gilnean who’d escaped with the other refugees, would help round out the group with his druidic healing. Hopefully his presence would help soothe any ruffled Westfallen feathers alongside Sunderstone, a dwarven shaman who would also serve as one of the group’s healers. 

Westfallen were particularly fond of druids and shamans after they’d arrived en masse to quell the troubles of the land and try to restore its former richness. Luciana hoped having a few of them with her would ease the way a bit.

“Only the best,” Luciana sighed, and gave Hammond’s leg one final pat. “We’re off, General. Make sure the Home Guard keeps my home safe while I’m away.”

“Always, Your Highness,” he said firmly. “New Stormwind will never fall.”

She offered him a half-smile, the best she could manage at the moment, and moved to join her group.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess of Stormwind, Lady Luciana,” Christopher announced, gesturing to Luciana. As one, the group bowed to her. “Luce?” he prompted past his own bow.

“You all know why you’re here?”

“Aye,” Burt growled. He’d chosen to be in worgen form for the trip, and Luciana couldn’t find fault in his decision. “To keep helpin’ Westfall. Ain’t the first I’ve been there.”

“Good,” Luciana said, nodding to him. “Any words of wisdom you have for me would be appreciated. I personally have never been to Westfall, despite or perhaps because of the chaotic political climate there. It’s my sincere hope that we can quell those storms like the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle quelled the elements at the Chasm.”

“We needed mages too,” Sunderstone piped up. “Turns out the Cataclysm ripped a new arsehole into a ley line. Right spot o’ trouble, that was.”

Luciana allowed herself a quiet chuckle. “Well, we’ve got two good mages right here,” she said, nodding to Naemete and Silver. “And I have no doubt we’ll be joined by other adventurers of all kinds once we reach our destination. Are we ready?” she asked.

“Ready!” the group echoed disjointedly.

“Good.” Luciana surveyed the group once, and then turned to the right and bellowed. “Thunderer!”

She heard Burt whine, and saw his ears lay flat at the sudden boom of her voice. She heard a familiar scream and turned her head to face it, and moments later Thunderer came thundering into the Valley from behind the Gates. He reached Luciana and half-reared, tossing his head and holding it high so that she’d have to reach up to grab the reigns.

Laughingly, she did. “Easy there,” she cooed, giving his nose the rub she knew he wanted. He butted her hand, snorted, and tossed his head again, trying to feel his mane move. He disliked having his mane braided or rolled into buns, but it was better than having it get caught up in his armour - and Luciana wasn’t about to march him into dangerous territory without his armour.

“We’re ready,” Lawrence said.

“We’re just waiting on one more,” Luciana replied, cocking her head and listening carefully. A familiar _click-click click-click_ reached her, and she smiled and knelt down just as Shauna came careening out of the Gates. She didn’t stop running until she slammed into Luciana bodily, who was almost completely unmoved by the forty-something pounds of stampeding mastiff-blooded terrier. “Hey there!” she cooed. “You ready to go?”

Shauna shoved her nose against Luciana’s chin and snuffled and then snorted, and trotted under Thunderer’s belly to stand at his right, antsy and nearly dancing in place.

“Alright,” Luciana said, still laughing. She pulled her helm over her short hair, gave her head a shake, and buckled its leather straps to her breastplate to keep it from shifting and blocking her peripheral. She double-checked her armour, checked Oathkeeper and made sure it slid smoothly from its sheath, and looked over her squadron. “Princess’ Guard, you ready?”

“We already said yes!” Kain quipped as the others echoed varying types of positives.

Luciana turned and with a single swift movement, hooked her boot into the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. It was a familiar thing, the settle of the hips into the saddle, the roll to adjust for the horse’s movements, the height of being mounted, the leaning and the control of the reins. Her brief smile was pained. “Mount up!” she called, and the various adventurers called on various mounts from various stables all across the world with various enchanted summoning equipment.

A ram, nearly an entire herd of horses, two sabers, a pink forest strider, an elekk, two Light-blessed Chargers, a worgen, a druid in stag form, and a magical carpet were soon ready and waiting for her command.

“Form up!” Luciana called. “The supply caravan is already prepped and ready for us at Westbrook Garrison. Let’s not keep them waiting. Move out.”

She was near the head of the party, with two Royal Guards a rank ahead of her and to the sides. If there was trouble that they couldn’t handle somehow, Thunderer could explode from the front of the party and take off while the rest stayed behind to buy her time to escape. She wouldn’t be captured, not again. Not like Varian was, years ago. Anduin had made her promise that, specifically, even with her other oaths to him.

He’d been afraid to let her to go Westfall. The Defias Brotherhood had nearly died off completely and had been silent for years, but Anduin remembered. He remembered the terror and panic that had followed his Father’s disappearance, and he remembered his own fear, his own sense of absolute abandonment and the subsequent chaos Onyxia had reaped under the guise of Lady Prestor.

So, Luciana had done the only sensible thing - she’d sworn to him, quietly, with the fire flickering in the hearth and exhaustion weighing them both to the mattress, to return safe and sound after her business in Westfall was concluded. He’d been hardly awake then, light blue bruises the shape of her hands littering his wrists and ribs and a sleepy smile on his beautiful face. 

She’d soothed away the remnants of pain from the bruises with hands made gentle by fatigue, kissed his chin and his cheek and along his jaw, and promised. He’d remembered it the next morning, and she’d promised to keep her promise, and that had let him settle into his chair and eat breakfast past the anxiety bubbling in him.

“I will always return home to you,” Luciana whispered. It was hidden under her helm. She turned it into a prayer. It was easy to take words meant for Anduin and make them a prayer. They were a prayer in themselves already. “Light, bring home his friend, safe and whole. Don’t let her be taken from him. Don’t take her from her children. Don’t take her from her people. Help me keep my oath to him. When this is done, bring me home.”

She doubted the Light heard her. She was no priest, nor a paladin. But she prayed anyway, and hoped, knowing that Anduin would be praying as well. And she had no doubt that the Light would hear him.


	52. First Stop; Furlborrough

The convoy at Westbrook had been ready and waiting for them, a messenger bird sent ahead from the Gryphon Roost. Anduin had sent it off on his way back to the Keep. It was to quicken their journey by the half-day it would’ve taken the convoy to prepare. They managed to get into Westfall and to the inn set up near the border just before nightfall, even at a slow walk that had Thunderer tossing his head in frustration.

“I know,” Luciana soothed, patting the only part of his neck that wasn’t armoured. “I know. I get it. Me, too.” She glanced down at Shauna. Her pink tongue was lolling as she panted and her greying face was wet from the stream she’d drunk from by dunking nearly her whole head in, but she was kicking her paws out like she was having a grand old time and her eyes were alert.

The Jansen Stead had been abandoned and lost to the elements, though the deed still held authority over the plot. They moved further in, to the the Furlbrow’s old pumpkin farm. It had been turned into a tavern and inn for travelers from Elwynn and was frequented by Westbrook soldiers on weekend leave. What seemed like a small town had been hastily erected around it, with the remains of the pumpkin patch in the middle. It was still occupied by pumpkins, and the crop was benefitting from the work put into the soil in the past few years.

“That’s a huge fucking pumpkin,” Luciana heard Kain comment.

“The Pumpking,” Christopher said. A moment later he cried out in pain.

“That was disgusting,” Kain lamented.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” Chris said. “And why the hell did you hit me?”

“Because you deserved it. You know, I did think of that, and then I thought of how disgusting it was and didn’t say it. You need a new brain-mouth filter.”

Luciana was wearing a slight smile when they rode into Furlborrough, as people had taken to calling it. The name honoured the late Furlbrows, who’d met an unfortunate end after spending so long holding onto their land. Luciana said a short prayer for them, praising their strong wills, and tapped a heel against Thunderer’s belly. He snorted and broke into a trot for a short stretch, the rest of the party following along save for the caravan and its guard.

They garnered quite a few stares, Luciana most of all. It only intensified when she rode into the small town square in front of the tavern, and had Thunderer rear up and paw the air dramatically. He wheeled around on his hind hooves, snorting and whinnying loudly, and when he landed gracefully, he tossed his head and pranced a few energetic steps.

“Hear me!” Luciana bellowed, attracting what little attention hadn’t been on her already. “I am Princess Luciana, of the Kingdom of Stormwind! On the fifth day of August this year, I will be crowned Queen!”

The Royal Guards and SI:7 stepped away from her as she spoke, leaving room for her squadron and the adventurers to surround her in a loose circle. It would appear less formal, less threatening, and make the group more approachable.

Luciana gestured grandly to the caravan. It was eighteen wagons long, with a multitude of horses and herders handling massive herds of sheep, cattle, pigs, plow horses and riding horses, and domesticated deer. There were also ten wagons full of hens with roosters in separate cages, and innumerable other things any good farmer would value. It had all been collected from Elwynn, from Redridge, and notably from Duskwood’s newer and richer farms. Anduin had had the idea to redistribute some of the massive wealth gain most of the Kingdom had seen during the productivity of the Draenor war.

“Westfall has been troubled these past years,” she continued. “In no small part, this is thanks to the machinations of my own House of Nobles, whose previous generations were not always so noble. It is thanks in large part to the corrupted black dragon Onyxia, who was once known by the name Lady Katrana Prestor, whose machinations saw our kingdom near ruined, our King magically sundered, our lives, our people in shambles! No more!” she cried.

“Westfall will suffer no more! She saw her rebirth years ago with the druids and the shamans who quelled her rage and sorrow, and brought back the richness of her fertile grounds. This is the continuation! All Westfallen, whether or not you have suffered the reign of the Defias, of the bandits and cowards who stole land from your good farmers, from your people, murdered you and kept you in terror, whether or not you were born Westfallen, whether or not you own land or beast or business, come forth! All Westfallen, you are owed reparation for the suffering of Westfall. 

“Come forth, and let Stormwind make her amends. Come forth, and share in the wealth and safety of the Kingdom of Stormwind to which you belong. To which you always have and always will belong. I have personally guaranteed the safety of Duskwood,” Luciana said as people began to cautiously approach her. “From the feral worgen, from the undead, from the ogres. I have spent time and gold, energy and blood, to see my people in Darkshire safe. On the behalf of the Crown and its future King, I can do no less for Westfall.”

“Stormwind betrayed us,” a man growled to her. His eyes were wild.

“Stormwind was betrayed,” Luciana said to him, quieting her voice. She undid the straps on her helm and slowly pulled it off, revealing her mangled jaw, her sharp grey eyes, her thick and muscular neck. “You know the tale of Onyxia. It’s no children’s story. The black dragon corrupted the House of Nobles with magic, and those of them who were greedy and spiteful were taken all the easier for it. That generation is over,” she said firmly. “The new generation stands in its place, with Anduin and myself at its lead. And we will not allow our people to suffer anymore.”

“Stormwind betrayed us!” the man screamed. “Threw us to the coyotes and bled us like stuck pigs!”

“I’m sorry,” Luciana said sincerely, lowering her head to him. It started a quiet murmur she could hear quite clearly from her guard. “I am not a stranger to loss. But I cannot imagine what it was to live in Westfall during the Dust Plains. I’m sorry. We are doing all we can now to repair the land, make it safe and rich once again as it always should have been. My court will not be poisoned by black dragons, nor will it ever fall to corruption as it once did. We will look to the Light, as we always should have, and we invite you to move with us into a better future. And we will do all we can to ease that way for you Westfallen.”

The man was quickly overtaken despite his protests by a growing crowd of Westfall locals, who were eager to meet Luciana, the celebrity that she was. Even though there was a strong undercurrent of bitterness, she was still a Princess, and everyone wanted to meet her. They all wanted to see what she’d brought, and to greet the great number of people she’d brought with her. Some merchants had also tagged along to check out the new, but not yet completely restored Westfall.

“A portion of what you see here will be distributed to all citizens of Furlborrough,” Luciana declared after giving ample time for the people to see what Stormwind had sent them. “And if you are not a lawful citizen, see Clerk Lawrence Burns near the lead wagon. He will have your name registered by the day’s end, and you will see your fair share of Stormwind’s wealth. Now is not the time to argue who should receive what!” Luciana said. “All people of Stormwind should be able to share in its prosperity. And all shall.”

She then gestured to the military recruiter she’d brought along from Westbrook. “For those interested in the path of the soldier or the path of the Knight, Recruiter Hardy has stationed herself by the tavern. Inquire about the benefits a veteran will receive from their government and the careers, education, and travel opportunities that can be made available to you through the Imperial Armed Forces.”

Luciana turned Thunderer on the spot to point grandly to the adventurers accompanying her. “And feel free to talk to adventurers and heroes of Azeroth! Hear their stories and share in their glories. By the end of July, class trainers of all kinds will wander Westfall in search of promising students. No fees are required for basic training, only a strong will and open mind. The House of Wrynn will fund these trainers and help make Westfall its own proud people once again. And if you believe that you have the skill, the courage, the fortitude, and the valour necessary to become a Royal Guard...” She cast her gaze around her.

“If you believe in Westfall’s future, if you truly have confidence that Westfall belongs not in the gutters of the world but in its greatest halls, if you truly wish for Westfall to regain its pride, and if you believe you can set aside anger at the past and look to the future, speak to my Guards. Only the best of Stormwind may join the ranks of the Royal Guards. I invite you, Westfallen, to join them. And if you do, I will trust you with my life, the life of my husband, the lives of my children, as I ask you to trust me with yours.”

That garnered some interest, but it faded quickly as people crowded the caravans. Luciana heard the chatter grow into a dull roar and silently reequipped her helmet before someone got the bright idea to shoot her in the head. She wanted to believe that Westfall could receive her without bitterness, but she was not an idealist. She knew that the fury of a warrior simmered in Westfall’s heart, barely held back by the soothing magic of the druids and the shaman and the careful Shadows of Helliah’s court.

Luciana was proud, however, to hear cheer and laughter quickly take over the chatter surrounding the caravan. She let Thunderer pace the length of the tavern’s long front building, restless as he was from the slow walk from Stormwind. They’d kept to the paths to avoid potential issues between their wagons and highwaymen, and Thunderer had complained the whole way. “Tomorrow,” Luciana said, patting his neck. “We’ll go for a run tomorrow.”

He huffed, but as was his way he proved abnormally intelligent for a horse, which was well within the range of normal for a Westbrook Warrior, and his prancing calmed down as the night progressed. She could’ve sworn, as always, that he’d understood her words.

When she judged it to be late enough, Luciana whistled and gestured and her guards regrouped around her. “Set up camp!” she bellowed, and action began immediately. Within a half hour, tents were set up for the entire caravan and the first guard rotation was up and ready.

“Your Highness,” one of her guards said, holding his hand out. “I’ll bring Thunderer to the stables we’ve borrowed and see him brushed down.”

“He bites,” Luciana warned with a smile as she slid easily out of the saddle. She took Thunderer’s head gently between her hands, and looked him in the eye. “Behave,” she warned, and then bumped her helmed forehead against his velvet-soft nose. He huffed a breath at her and butted her shoulder before allowing the guard to lead him away. He’d calmed down a bit since his glory days in the red glow of the Dark Portal, at least.

Luciana’s tent was marginally larger than any of the others, mostly because it also served as a central command tent. Already there were a number of people waiting outside for her, mostly locals. One appeared to be a tavern keeper, wrinkled and grey-haired, and surprisingly alert.

“What in fel’s going on?” she demanded, eyes wide. “I wasn’t expecting this much people! When word gets out you’re here, I won’t have enough anything for half the crowd who’ll come down!”

“We’ll be moving on late tomorrow morning,” Luciana told the woman, clapping her on the shoulder with a care to how abnormally strong she was compared to civilians, and to how heavy and hard her gauntlet was. Despite knowing that she should’ve demanded more respect from the innkeeper for her position as a Royal, she knew it wouldn’t garner her any favour. And, she found, it was nice to have people look her in the eye. “Like I said before, this is a continuation of the renewal of Westfall, not the end of it. We’ve come only to deliver more help towards that goal and we’ve got a lot more places to visit and not much time to do it. We won’t be in your hair much longer.”

“Oh,” the woman said, blinking. “Well. Alright. Organized chaos and all that, I suppose...” She paled suddenly. “Your Highness,” she added quickly, bobbing his head in a sort of bow. Luciana didn’t smile, knowing how grotesque it could seem if she wasn’t careful. Instead, she nodded her head to acknowledge her efforts. 

“What is your name?” she asked.

“They call me Mama,” she said. “Mama Celeste.”

“Mama Celeste. Looks like you’ve done well for yourself here. What is your inn called?”

“ _Two-Shoed Inn_ ,” she replied warily.

“If any of my people cause trouble, find one of our guards and they’ll sort it out. Any damage done to your inn, though I hope there will be none, should be reported to the Requisitions Office in Stormwind. Repairs would be forthcoming.”

“Thank you,” Celeste said, faintly. Luciana let her wander off back towards her tavern, and turned to the other Westfallen who were awaiting her. 

One stood out in particular - a white-haired woman more wrinkled than a date and nearly as dark as one, who pointed at Luciana with a finger like a gnarled twig. “You,” she said shakily. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

“For me, or for my House?” Luciana asked. “Please, come in. It’s rude of me to keep you standing out here like this.” She held open the tent flap for the old woman, and let a few of the less hesitant Westfallen wander in first. Three Royal Guards were already inside, acting the part of silent sentinels in three of the corners of the tent.

“For you,” the woman said. She stood by the opening, swaying slightly on weak legs. She hadn’t actually entered the tent, just stared at Luciana through squinted eyes that were white with cataracts. “Wolf-eyes. Lionheart.”

The hair on the back of Luciana’s neck stood and her skin prickled. She inhaled, scented, got nothing, and tried again. The woman’s voice was as any other old woman’s voice would be, but at the same time, it wasn’t.

“Stand alone and march alone,” the woman said in a voice made weak with age. “I have been waitin’ for you for years. Same thing, over and over, I’ve watched you march alone. In the darkness, into it and right back out. Not this time, if you don’t let them in. Follow your light,” she said, and Luciana’s lip curled into the beginning of a snarl. “Let them in. Lead them in. They follow you and you follow your light. Give it up to him or give in to them. It’s happened a thousand times and it’ll happen a thousand times, and then one time, and then I can stop watchin’ you die.”

The woman turned and hobbled away, satisfied that she’d said her piece. Luciana watched her for a moment. _A thousand times?_

“Don’t worry, that’s just typical Henriette,” a nervous Westfallen woman laughed. “Just ignore her, she’s seen the worst of the Dust Plains. We all watch out for her, you know?”  
Luciana hummed, and then turned and entered the tent. “Come in,” she said. “I’ve got food, water, and a limited number of chairs that aren’t strong enough for my armour. Come in and sit. Let’s talk.”

She made sure her guests were comfortable before setting her helm down. One of the SI:7 who’d accompanied her was prowling the tent - she could just barely make out his scent and the soft _puh... puh..._ of his leather boots against the floor of the tent.

“Go ahead,” Luciana said, gesturing to the food laid out on the foldable table. The young man was the first to comply, reaching out eagerly for a cheese and spinach tart. She allowed herself a brief moment to enjoy the look of surprise and delight on his face when he bit into the tart. She knew it would likely be the best food any of them had ever tasted. She also doubted that any of them realized how abnormal it was for a Royal to stand while others sat, and she wouldn’t point it out to them. “Any of you can speak your piece. I’m here to listen to what the Westfallen have to say. I’ve heard enough from Elwynners and the Duskwooden. Whatever you say I will bring with me to the capital, where work continues under Prince Anduin to ensure that all citizens of Stormwind see the prosperity the city has seen these past years.”

“We don’t mean any disrespect,” the older woman said, sharing a glance with the older man with her.

When the tent was silent for the sounds of the young man eating, Luciana sighed quietly. “Why don’t we start with introductions?” she said, gentling her tone. “I’m Luciana Wrynn. And you are?” she asked, looking at the young man.

“Dusty,” he said past a mouthful of the miniature pork pie he’d grabbed. “Alfred. Dusty Alfred.”

“I’m Winnie,” the woman who’d spoken volunteered. “This is my... uh, husband. Jack.”

Luciana nodded to her. “Your uh, husband?” she teased, and then she chuckled. “Forgive me. I forget sometimes that I can be... intimidating to those who aren’t used to me.”

“It’s fine!” Winnie said hurriedly. “It’s fine. Of course. It’s fine.”

“Relax,” Luciana soothed. “Have something to eat. I have a few bottles of wine, if you like.”

“Oh, no, no,” Winnie said, raising a hand as though to brush away the idea. “It’s fine. We just, um, haven’t been able to actually find a Clerk that can write up the documents, so we’re... we’re not, um, lawfully married. But we consider ourselves married.”

“I see,” Luciana said softly, regarding the two of them. “If you’d like, I can have Clerk Burns write them up tonight. I believe the dwarven paladin I’m travelling with this week is ordained with the Argent Crusade. Or, if you’d prefer a druid, I think I can convince Isendir to preside.”

The woman’s eyes went almost comically wide, but Luciana didn’t find it funny. These two people hadn’t even been able to marry in the eyes of the law because there was no one to provide the service. The Light might have seen them as married, bonded, for years, but to Westfall’s shattered government and the capital of the kingdom, they were just two random people. “Please,” Winnie blurted. “Oh, please, we’ve been looking for two years, and we haven’t even been able to afford wedding bands or anything, and Jack’s not... you know, so we can’t actually have kids, so it’s all we’ve got is each other.”

 _Not male,_ she heard underneath Winnie’s words. She would have someone look into the culture of Westfall, how they saw things like gender. Stormwind had moved steadily away from the traditional views in recent years, but it didn’t hold true for all her territories.

Luciana turned to one of her guards. Hillary stepped forward and listened to the murmured instructions. “Ask for Venitio, and tell him I want a pair of plain mithril bands from his store. He should have at least a few in stock. If he asks about payment, remind him that the House of Wrynn always pays its dues. And find Lawrence and tell him to write up a basic wedding contract right now and bring it to me.”

“Princess,” Hillary nodded, and marched from the tent.

Luciana turned back to Winnie, whose wide eyes and clear awe filled Luciana with sorrow, happiness, and rage in equal measures. She brushed aside the volatile emotions, and made her face relax out of the scowl it’d been threatening to show.

“What about you?” she asked, looking at the second woman. “What’s your name?”

The woman merely glared at Luciana, who shrugged it off as something to be expected.

“So, Dusty,” Luciana asked, looking at the most relaxed of her guests. He’d moved on to the cheeses and fruits and was gobbling grapes like a gnomish vacuum cleaner. “You were born in Westfall?”

“Nope, Elwynn. Parents brought me here with three sisters and a brother. Me ‘n Genny live, sorta, over at Saldean’s. Got a weird little place set up there, still Saldean’s land but they let people build on it ‘n stuff. Plots are nice again, at least.”

“That’s good to hear,” Luciana said. “I know Westfall was fragmented for a long time. The Defias made sure of it. It’s easier to take land from people who don’t have neighbours and allies to call on. It’s good that the people here are standing together like this.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us,” Dusty said, chewing and swallowing loudly. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. Luciana didn’t begrudge his enjoyment of the food. The first time she’d tasted the pork pies they made in the castle kitchens she’d reacted the same way - by stuffing them in her mouth two at a time, to Anduin’s chagrin. “Some people are damn angry at your folk.”

“I can understand anger,” Luciana nodded. “I _am_ a warrior. I’m not here to tell people not to be angry. I’m here to apologize for the loss allowed to happen here because the House of Wrynn let a disguised black dragon into our halls. We didn’t know it at the time, but Onyxia wanted Stormwind destroyed. Black dragons, corrupted and insane, revel in such things. I imagine that before their corruption they were like the other flights, but...” Luciana shrugged one massive shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter much anymore, since we’re living in the present, not the past,” Dusty pointed out. 

“Quite true,” Luciana agreed. “And as it stands, it was my House that failed to lead the House of Nobles at the time when they refused to pay the Stonemasons their fair wages for the construction of New Stormwind. Understandably the Stonemason’s Guild was quite upset, and with Onyxia’s machinations, it ended in chaos and riots. The late Queen Tiffin was killed, and King Varian was ensorcelled with strange magic that rendered him without any willpower to lead the House of Nobles as it should have been led.”

“And we suffered for his fuck-ups,” the unnamed woman spat, leaping to her feet. “Y’all admit it being your own damn fault, and we suffered for it!” she shrieked, advancing on Luciana. With a hand held up to her guards, Luciana let the woman vent. Even when she nearly took Luciana’s eye out with an accusing finger. “ _You_ fuck up, and _we_ suffer for it, and now you want us all to fucking party and welcome you back? I ain’t cheering for you if you paid me a thousand gold! Find some Duskwooden to blow smoke up your Royal ass.” She spat at Luciana’s feet, and looked up - and up - to glare at her with absolute burning fury. “Fuck you,” the woman said lowly. “Fuck your House. Fuck your city. Take a cactus and shove it up your snatch. We want nothin’ to do with you. You come here again and we’ll burn you like you burned us. If that pretty husband of yours ever comes here, he’d better have a cowl. If he’s got a crown we’ll melt it to his damn forehead.”

Luciana watched her in solemn silence even as the woman’s face twisted into a snarl at Luciana’s lack of response. It looked for a moment as though the woman was going to rear back and slap Luciana, or worse, but instead, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the tent. It was a good idea, because if she’d struck Luciana, she would not have stopped her guards from arresting the woman. It was one thing to say your piece. It was another entirely to assault a Royal, regardless of your reasoning.

“Damn,” Dusty whistled. “Didn’t know warriors could be so patient.”

“She has every right to be angry,” Luciana said. “And anger is something I intimately understand.” She still had to carefully tamp down her fury. _Not here, not now. Another time._ “And she has every right to curse the name Wrynn with every breath. We’re here to make amends, but for some it might be a generation too late.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever really forgive you,” Jack said. Luciana looked away from the tent flap. It still waved from the woman’s sudden exit.

“I’m not asking you to,” Luciana said. “I’m offering you things that should have always been yours. Apologies, for one,” she said. “Good farming land, thanks to the Cenarion Circle and the Earthen Ring. Herd animals and crops from Elwynn, Redrige, and Duskwood. Farming equipment, trade goods, safe highways and trade routes, profession and class trainers... Things that every other citizen of Stormwind can and has benefitted from, save Westfall. Well, that ends now,” Luciana said. “I’ll see to Westfall’s recovery like I saw to Duskwood’s.” She knew that in time, Westfall would ease up and once again see itself as part of Stormwind. But for now, it was best to simply omit that part.

“Darkshire’s doing good, I heard,” Dusty said. “Some traders, they’ve been coming in every few months to check on the coyotes and the prairie dogs. They like the fur, but it’s still too poor for them to sell. But we get news from ‘em at Saldean’s.”

“Darkshire is doing very good,” Luciana corrected with a smile. “Last I was there for longer than a day, I eliminated one of the greater worgen packs with a few locals and a handful of guards, as well as Prince Anduin’s exceptional healing and protective abilities. The fur trade is steadily climbing as they find new clients all over the Eastern Kingdoms, and they haven’t yet reached out to Kalimdor. And there are true hunters there to make sure they don’t strip the land.”

“Like what happened here?” Dusty asked.

“Yes.” Luciana nodded solemnly. “There were too many mistakes to count when it came to how Westfall was handled. It won’t happen again.”

“Hope not,” Dusty said, grimacing as he used a mint-waxed toothpick to pick at his teeth. “Really sucked here for a while.”

“I know,” Luciana said quietly.

“So,” Dusty said, and then he burped loudly and covered his mouth for a moment. “Sorry,” he said unapologetically. “What’re y’all gonna do about Moonbrook?”

“That is a good question,” Luciana said. “I wanted to get your opinions on it, first. I think Westfallen should decide what happens to Westfall, no?”

Dusty smiled and pointed at her, showing off crooked but surprisingly clean white teeth. “I like you,” he said. “Let me tell you what I think.”

“Please,” Luciana said, holding her hands out to the sides for a moment. “Tell me anything and everything. I’m here to listen. A good commander always listens to all her intel before making a move.”


	53. Night in Furlborrough

It was nearing midnight by the time Dusty was finished talking. Winnie had had a few things to add, mostly agreeing with what Dusty said about reconstruction in Moonbrook, but she was clearly on the fence when it came to the people who’d holed up there. Dusty called them rebels, but Luciana wasn’t sure that the name fit. Still, she didn’t interrupt him, and let him talk until it appeared he’d run out of words.

There were a few minutes of silence, during which Luciana wished she had a sturdy chair that would hold her armoured weight. The silence was interrupted when Lawrence stuck his head into the tent.

“I’ve got the things you asked for,” he said, and Luciana waved him in. She eyed him, raising her eyebrows and pointing at her own eyes.

“You need to sleep,” she said softly. 

“I wanted to finish this up first,” he replied just as quietly. “Here’s the contract. I thought they might like a druid to preside, since, well... You know. Anyway. On my way in, Venitio handed me these.” He gave Luciana two sturdy jeweller’s boxes. She opened them, inspected the rings with her back to her guests, and nodded.

“Good. Thank you, Lawrence,” she said, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Go and rest, now. We’re up early again tomorrow morning.”

“Right.” He smiled briefly. “Have a good night, yourself.”

“I’ll try,” she grumbled.

“You’re too used to having the Prince with you,” he teased with a familiar smile. “You’ll need to get used to sleeping in a barrack again, maybe. Well, you’ll have someone to keep warm at night.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove towards the tent flap. “Go on and rest,” she ordered. “You’re long done for tonight.”

“Night, Princess,” Lawrence said, giving her a wave before slipping out of the tent.

Dusty’s curious eyes were on her, and he craned his neck to try and see what she was holding. “Can either of you read Common very well?” Luciana asked, knowing full well the literacy rates of Westfall’s population.

“Not really,” Winnie said with an apologetic smile.

“Alright.” Luciana stood before them and started to read the contract out loud. It didn’t take long, as Lawrence had only written a basic one, but it was enough for them to legally marry. “If you’d like, one of my party’s druids will preside tomorrow and marry you.” She handed them the papers, and Jack reached out to take them silently. Winnie’s eyes were wide and damp when she turned her head to stare at the papers like they were made of gold. “Just bring him those papers and he’ll sign off on it afterward.”

“Thank you,” Winnie said thickly.

“And here,” Luciana said, offering her the two small boxes. “A gift from the House of Wrynn. You two clearly have a strong bond to have been together for so long, and through so much. Let these wedding bands represent that.”

Winnie opened the one of boxes, and gasped, nearly dropping them both. “Oh, my Light,” she murmured, taking one of the bands out of the box. “This is... This isn’t gold?”

“Mithril,” Luciana responded, and Winnie slowly looked back down at the rings."We prefer it for wedding bands in the capital. We find it represents a strong commitment, a strong bond, better than soft gold."

“Oh my Light,” she said slowly in the typical drawling Westfallen accent.

“You can have them resized at any jeweller’s,” Luciana said. “I’ll have a writ for you by tomorrow. Give them that and they’ll charge me instead of you.”

“This is too much,” Winnie said. “We can’t accept this. This is too much.”

“It’s not enough,” Luciana corrected her gently. “It’s only the tip of what Stormwind owes its wayward children. It’s our fault you were lost to begin with.”

“Oh,” Winnie said softly, clutching the boxes to her chest.

Luciana sighed quietly. “Why don’t you go and rest for tonight?” she said. “It’s been a long night and I’m sure you’re all quite tired. If you’re afraid you’ll lose the bands, or that they’ll be stolen, you can leave them with me and I’ll have them brought to Isendir, my druid, tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Winnie choked, reaching out to grasp Luciana’s gauntleted hand. “Thank you. I can’t say it enough. Thank you.”

Luciana brought Winnie’s rough, dust-scarred hand to her lips, dipping her head down to kiss the middle knuckle gently. “Thank you for being patient with us,” Luciana replied. “It might take time, but my House always pays its dues.”

Winnie was crying when she left with the papers Lawrence had written up, Jack’s arm around her in silent support. Dusty stood and stretched, and watched them leave.

“That was nice,” he said softly, looking at Luciana. “That was a nice thing you did.”

Luciana smiled, knowing that it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve seen good people die,” she said. “They’ll never have the chance to grow older, to marry or to find lifelong friends. The people here still have those chances and I will not let them be squandered.”

“You got ghost-eyes,” Dusty said. “I’ve seen ‘em, you know. Ghost-eyes just giving up and dying.”

“Battle fatigue, we call it,” Luciana said, turning to him. “In Elwynn, we mostly see it in war veterans. People who’ve seen things they can’t forget, like it’s been painted on the walls of their head.”

“Ghost-eyes,” Dusty said. “’Cause the people what have ‘em, they’re already dead. Walking ghosts.”

“It fits,” Luciana said. “Do you have any family left?”

“A sister. Genny. She’s little,” he said. “Too little. Didn’t get enough to eat like I did. We came here when she was only a couple of years old. I was already eight. Mam called me Weedy Alfred ‘cause I grew so fast.”

Luciana smiled crookedly. “I did, too,” she said. “But I had the advantage of proper nutrition.”

“Hope the kids today will,” Dusty said.

Luciana nodded once, solemnly. “I never break my word,” she said. “Even when I’m dead, I keep my promises. And I promise you, I promise Westfall, that Stormwind will pay her dues to you all. Westfall will not fade away like this ever again.”

“Good.” He nodded once, firmly, like he was sealing a deal. “I’ll hold ya to it, Princess.”

When Dusty left, the tent was silent. Luciana sighed heavily. She looked at the little boxes in her hands, and turned to Hillary again. “Would you mind bringing these to Isendir?” she asked. “He’ll keep them until tomorrow. Likely someone’s going to raid Winnie and Jack while they sleep for any valuables they might’ve picked up from my tent. Once we leave, they should be safe.”

“Alright, Princess,” Hillary said, a quiet little understanding smile on her face. “I’ll bring them over.”

While her guards looked on in amusement, Luciana ate what was left of the food set out on the table. She hastily ate enough for two people, drained a water skin, and stretched her arms to crack her shoulders. Her pauldrons rotated when she reached up, nearly touching behind her head for a moment until she let her arms drop and they rotated back into place over her shoulders.

“Time for bed,” Luciana sighed, and pushed aside the curtain someone had hastily strung up between her cot and the rest of the tent. She’d purposefully forgone a proper bed, as she didn’t really need it for a single week of travel. It would’ve taken up too much space in the wagons, and too much time to assemble and disassemble each night.

She carefully detached her cloak from her pauldrons, sweeping it off her back and onto the small table by her cot. She yanked off the plates of her armour, piling them onto the armour rack in the corner of the tent. She didn’t remove her leathers, knowing full well the chances of an opportunistic assassination attempt, even with the protective runes sewn into the material of the tent itself and the guards that paced the perimeter. Luciana did, however, pull off her leather boot linings and wriggle her toes against the floor of the tent. Her boots were comfortable, but there wasn’t anything really comparable to going barefoot.

“Shauna’s here,” George, another of the Royal Guards, reported with a smile evident in his tone. A moment later, Shauna’s snuffling nose poked past the curtain and she shoved herself into the little corner Luciana had claimed for her private use.

“Hey pup,” Luciana crooned as she rolled onto her side, patting the cot. Shauna hop-stepped onto it, and immediately pushed herself against Luciana’s stomach. The dog folded over and let her head hang over Luciana’s wide waist.

The tent was quiet now. Luciana listened for her nightly guards. Lars had volunteered, not trusting anyone to really do it properly without him. Sunderstone was there too, with Naemete and Daniel. Luciana sighed again, feeling heavy and emotionally drained, and rolled onto her back. Shauna fell with her, draping herself over her human’s stomach. Luciana petted her absently, brushing her fingers over the soft fur on the dog’s neck. “Me too,” Luciana murmured when Shauna heaved a sigh and groaned on the exhale.

Luciana slept well for the first little while, but a nightmare had Shauna’s wet, snuffling nose against her chin. After that, she couldn’t fall back asleep. She was too used to being able to reach over and touch Anduin’s back, or lay her hand on his side and feel it move with his breathing, or listen and hear his heart beating. The best thing, she found, was to bury her nose in his hair left loose on the pillow like a halo and drape an arm over his side. That way she could feel him breathe, hear his heart, smell him and feel him all at once. But she wasn’t at his side tonight, and couldn’t benefit from his calming presence.

Instead she sat up, listening for Shauna’s groan. A moment later she heard it, and smiled as the dog rearranged herself into a tight little ball on the hot spot Luciana had left behind.

“Sorry,” she murmured, petting Shauna’s head with a gentle hand. “Sleep, puppy-dog. Good girl.”

Shauna tucked her nose under a fold of blanket, and went right back to sleep. Luciana left her in peace, pulling on her boot linings and getting to her feet.


	54. Slim

When Luciana left her cot, she found Lars sitting at the table with Sunderstone and Naemete. He was showing them how to play Squadron on a foldable chess board. Luciana knew he never left the Keep without the pieces in a bag at his belt. “Hey Cap,” he said without looking away from the board. Daniel, standing by the tent flap he’d sealed for the night, looked up first.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Daniel asked, offering her a smile.

“No,” Luciana said, falling into the last available chair. The legs squeaked under her weight and she let herself relax. “Nerubians again. Dog woke me.” She absently rubbed the heel of her palm against the top of the vertical scars that ran the length of the middle of her chest. She’d earned them in Northrend when she’d protected a healer from a Nerubian’s claws with her own body.

“Sorry,” Daniel said quietly. Luciana gave him a tired nod.

“Wanna play a game while you’re up?” Lars asked, motioning to the board.

Luciana swapped places with Sunderstone, who eagerly let her take his chair. The dwarf watched with rapt attention as they played the modified version of chess. She won the first bout, let Lars take the second, and then destroyed him in seven moves in the third.

“She’s good,” Naemete said with awe.

“She’s Luciana,” Lars corrected, collecting his pieces to replace them at their starting points. “You ever see her at an actual war table? Goddamn monster.”

“Do either of ye mind if I take this back ta Ironforge?” Sunderstone asked.

“Go ahead,” Lars answered, eyes on Luciana. “We came up with it drunk on dwarven mead, so it only seems fair.”

That had Sunderstone laughing, at least, and Luciana stood from her seat. “I’ll beg off on the fourth game,” she said. “Where are the others?” 

“Set up here and there,” Daniel answered as Sunderstone took his chair back. “You’re pretty well surrounded by guards and caravan handlers.” Luciana nodded absently, and when Daniel had the tent flap open, she ducked outside.

The air was crisp at night, not nearly as cold as Stormwind but cooler than Elwynn. Stormwind had mountains on three sides that caught the cold air coming from the sea and kept it lying heavily on top of the city, but Elwynn’s forests let the sun heat them, and it tended to be humid and warm. It rarely saw any snow, even in early January. Westfall, by comparison, had the typical plains weather. Cool at night, hot as a demon’s ass in the summer sun, and relatively cold winters that often saw frozen topsoil and snow.

Luciana breathed deeply when a breeze started up. She could clearly smell the wet, rich earth that had been restored recently. The smell of pumpkins and spices were still heavy on the wind, coming in from the tavern’s nightly baking crew. Pumpkin spice pies were their signature dish.

Luciana sniffed at the breeze again. She smelled sweat. Fear-sweat, and dust. Someone’s boots were kicking it up and sending it at her from upwind. If they were an assassin, they weren’t a very good one.

That was only confirmed when a human covered head to toe in scrappy clothes launched themselves at her from the shadows, a knife in hand. _At least they didn’t shout out their intentions_ , she thought dryly as she quickly stepped back, letting them stab at empty air. It was a simple matter to reach out, grab the back of their coat, and give them a sharp tug backwards to make them stumble. She casually kicked the back of their right knee and they fell forward, the knife hitting the ground just out of their reach as they tried to catch themselves. Luciana stepped over them and dropped down, knees to either side of their torso with their arms forced up over their head, and sat on them. They grunted at her weight, just under two hundred and sixty pounds of muscle and bone weighed down by heavy protective leathers.

“Oh my,” Luciana said dryly. “What do we have here. Should I be calling for my guards?” she asked, raising her nose and sniffing at the air. No one else seemed to be interested in attacking her. She kept her ears open anyway as she spoke. “I can only assume you’re human, since this is Westfall. You’re too short to be a night elf, and you’re certainly not a dwarf or a gnome. And you’re most definitely not a draenei, nor an orc. You don’t smell like an undead, either. So,” Luciana said, ignoring the person’s desperate struggles. “Who are you?”

“Oh, good,” Wrathion’s disguised voice said from behind her. Luciana looked up to see him approaching from the shadows of her tent. “You caught them.”

“You knew?” she asked, quirking a brow at him questioningly.

“Yes, well, I assumed - correctly, I might add - that you could handle a single unprofessional attacker.”

“Let me go!” the person grunted, struggling even harder despite being completely and obviously unable to move Luciana’s massive weight. “Please, I’m sorry, just let me go!”

“You sound pretty young to be assassinating Royals,” Luciana hummed, reaching down and tugging the person’s head covering off. It was an old scarf of some kind, and Luciana was gentle despite her thick fingers being geared more towards destruction. “You are pretty young to be assassinating Royals. Why did you try?” Luciana asked, wrapping the scarf neatly around her hand with deliberate slowness. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“I’m fourteen!” the teenager spat, and then their struggles intensified. “Let me go! I won’t do anything, just let me go, let me go!”

“I can’t,” Luciana said as Lars exited the tent. She handed the scarf, neatly rolled, to Wrathion. “If I did, he’d chase you down and kill you.”

That stopped the teen in their tracks, and for a moment they froze. And then they tried in vain to buck and throw Luciana off. Panic completely overwhelmed the teen, who stank now of sweat and fear. “Let me go!” they shrieked.

“Hush, now,” Luciana said, placing her hand gently on their head. With it there, they couldn’t flail their head around quite so dramatically anymore. “You’re going to attract even more people. Just hush. Hush up, now. Shh. Hush.”

Slowly they quieted and stilled, but their eyes still darted about frantically and their breathing was heavy.

“Who sent you?” Luciana asked softly, stroking their matted, dirty hair with a gentle hand. “Who gave you a knife and told you to bloody it? You must have known you would fail. Who told you to try anyway? Who told you to throw away your life for a token gesture?”

“No one,” the teen panted. “No one sent me. I’m alone.”

“You are very alone,” Luciana agreed. “But someone did send you. They wanted to send a message, to me and to the people of Westfall. By having a child, seemingly a random stranger, attack me, it would tell me that Westfallen were all against me. By forcing me to allow you to be executed for treason against the Crown, they would have told Westfall that I care nothing for their lives, even though hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”

“No one sent me,” the teen said weakly. A few people had come to investigate the noise, mostly caravan handlers and a couple of locals. Luciana let her guards keep them back, and focused on her young assailant.

“They told you to say that?” Luciana said, and then she sighed, her shoulders dropping heavily. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then spoke before opening them. “I’ll let you up, but you must stay here. You can’t run away or try to attack me again.”

“No one sent me.”

“I heard you,” Luciana said. “If you behave, I can help you. If not, then you’ve tied my hands and I must let the law run.”

“No one sent me,” the teen said again, but their voice shook. “I’m alone.” Luciana heard tears in their voice and clenched her jaw for a moment, holding back her fury.

“Come on,” Luciana said soothingly when her fury was no longer clawing the inside of her throat. “Let’s get you up. Come on.”

“You’re too soft,” Lars said.

“They’re fourteen,” Luciana admonished, and Lars had the sense to lower his eyes - but only for a moment. Luciana guided the teen into the tent, ignoring the curious stares of the onlookers they’d attracted with their screaming.

“Age doesn’t matter,” Lars said, following her into the tent. “They came at you with a knife.” He had said knife in his hand, holding it by the tip of the blade. “A damn fine one, too. Look at this thing. It’s fucking _serrated_. Like a Nerubian’s claw. Who gave you this?” he asked, holding the knife up to the teen’s face. They flinched away, and Luciana put her shoulder between them.

She gave the order to stand down with little more than a glance, and Lars obediently backed off. His eyes, however, stayed on the teen, even as he inspected the knife with his expert hands. “Sit,” Luciana said, gently pushing the teen into a chair. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

The teen was mute. Luciana could see, faintly, that they were trembling. Their scent was completely overtaken with fear, sour and raw like rancid meat. They couldn’t seem to look up.

“What’s your name?” Luciana asked. “Tell me. What is your name?”

“Slim,” they said. “Just Slim.”

“Are you hungry or thirsty?” Slim looked up at Luciana. Their eyes were empty. Luciana turned to Daniel. “Get some bread and cheese and a water skin,” she said quietly.

“Aye.” He nodded, and turned to leave the tent to find the things she’d asked for.

“Slim,” Luciana said, turning back to the teen. “Where did you get that knife?”

“Found it.” They’d taken to staring blankly at the far wall of the tent.

“Where did you find it?”

“Around.”

“Around where?” Luciana asked. “Moonbrook?”

The muscle under Slim’s left eye starting to twitch rhythmically. “Around.”

Luciana sighed. “Who put the knife where you could find it? And who suggested you use it on me?”

“No one.”

Luciana pulled a chair so that it was opposite Slim, barely two feet away. She sat in the chair, leaned her elbows on her knees and still had to duck down to meet Slim’s gaze. Once she did, Slim seemed unable to look away. “Who gave you that knife, Slim?” Luciana asked quietly. She waited.

Her patience was rewarded. “I don’t know,” Slim said quietly. Brokenly. “I don’t know his name. I don’t know. He talks a lot, stands on the fountain and talks, talks, talks. No one listens, except we all do, because he’s the only one who talks to us anymore. He said you were gonna be here. He said you weren’t gonna come to Moonbrook, said the people up here are already well-off and that’s why you’re here giving ‘em more, fattening the pig before you slaughter it.”

“His words?” Lars murmured.

Luciana didn’t break Slim’s gaze. “Who told you to come here? Did this man tell you to come here and attack me with that knife?”

“No.” Slim’s eye twitched again. “No. He didn’t say that. But he did say it? I don’t know. I don’t know.” Slim curled forward suddenly, groaning in pain. Luciana stood and put a protective hand on their back.

“Sunderstone,” she said curtly.

The dwarf stepped forward, and Luciana left her hand heavy and hot on Slim’s back while the dwarf worked. The faint echo of water, not water but some kind of reflection of it, whispered over Slim’s back and around his torso, past his arms clenched tight like a vice around his stomach.

“Jest nerves,” Sunderstone said, heavy brow furrowed. “An’ hunger. Poor kid’s stomach is gnawin’ on their spine.”

“I can tell,” Luciana said. She’d felt Slim’s spine through the threadbare coat. She sat down, waited for Slim to recover. “Do you know who the man is?” Luciana asked when they sat up, eyes glazed over.

“No. No, I don’t know. He just talks. Talks a lot.” Slim groaned again, pressing their hands into their stomach. “You can hear him all the time, even if you’re inside,” they panted. “You can’t get away from it. He never stops talking.”

“Sounds like shadow magic,” Lars commented. “Mind control.”

Luciana hummed, quelling the sudden swell of fury in her gut. “Lars, get word to SI:7. I want them on it, now. And find me one of the Shadows. Lars disappeared from the tent, and Luciana again met Slim’s gaze. “Can you tell me anything about the man?” she asked. “How old is he, what colour is his hair or his eyes or his skin?”

“No. Yes.” Slim’s mouth twitched. “Old? I think. Older than you. I don’t like his voice. I.” Slim’s head turned suddenly, like someone had yanked on a rope. “It feels like rocks on my ears.”

“What do you mean?” Luciana asked.

“Rough. Like broken rocks. You ever cracked a geode?” Slim asked. “It’s like that, except there’s no shiny things inside. Just more rock. No one wants just more rock. It’s ugly. There’s no more shiny things in Moonbrook.”

Luciana sighed through her nose, and leaned back in her chair. She’d heard footsteps approaching and a moment later, Daniel entered the tent.

“Give me that,” Luciana said, taking the food and water from him. “Thank you. Go get Lokaal, I need his Light.”

“Aye.”

Daniel left again without another word. “Can you drink?” Luciana said, unscrewing the water skin and offering it to Slim. “It’s just water. Look.” She took a deliberate sip from it and swallowed, and offered it again to Slim. “Go ahead. Drink.”

Slim took the water skin from her hands. Their head pulled again.

“Does your neck hurt?” Luciana asked.

“No.” Slim took a slow pull from the water skin. “Doesn’t hurt. Feels funny.”

“You know what a paladin is?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a paladin coming in. He’s going to look at you and see what’s wrong with your neck, among other things. Keep drinking.” Luciana pushed the water skin back up to Slim’s face, and they silently drank a bit more. “Here. Eat some bread.” Luciana tore a chunk from the small loaf Daniel had found her, wrapped in a square of linen cloth. Slim obediently took the bread and started to eat slowly. They bit, chewed, swallowed, waited, and bit again. 

“What’re you gonna do?” Slim asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know yet. I should have you executed,” Luciana said. “Trying to kill a Royal is a serious issue and not many would take kindly to it. But,” Luciana said, seeing Slim start to tremble again. “I have strong reason to believe you’re being mind controlled. Which is also a serious issue. If you are being controlled, then you’re not the one who attacked me. The person who’s using mind control is the attacker, and you’re nothing but their weapon. So for now, you’re being lawfully detained.”

Lokaal entered the tent while Slim was eating. He was careful not to catch his horns on the tent flap. “This is the one?” he said quietly. “Daniel briefed me.” The tentacles that hung from the underside of his chin were twitching like an irritated cat’s tail.

“I have a strong suspicions there’s shadow magic involved,” Luciana said, leaning back and gesturing at Slim. “Maybe some kind of... mass mind control, if it’s even possible on this scale.”

“I will see what I can find,” Lokaal said. Slim didn’t look at him, just kept nibbling at the bread in their hands. Luciana offered them the square of cheese and they took it in their other hand, still slowly working on the last bit of bread.

Daniel returned shortly, Lars and an SI:7 agent in tow. He also brought with him two Royal Guards. “Detain Slim,” Luciana said. “After Lokaal is done his examination. And take special care. I think there’s mind control involved.”

“Yes, Princess,” her guard, George, nodded dutifully. “If they struggle?”

“Incapacitate. Carefully. They’re a child still. I doubt force will be necessary, but do what you must to keep them detained if it comes down to it.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Luciana gave Lokaal’s shoulder a pat as she stood. “I’m going back to bed. Probably won’t sleep, but I should lie down anyway. Shauna!” Luciana called, and whistled a couple of notes. She waited only a moment before she heard Shauna’s paws approaching on the hard ground, and then the dog barreled into the tent, ears and paws and tail all flapping and wagging happily. “Hey girl,” Luciana crooned. “Where did you go off to? You smell like pumpkins. You went exploring, huh?”

She held back the curtain to invite Shauna to hop back onto the cot, and the opportunity was gladly taken. Luciana had only to look at the SI:7 agent before he bowed his head briefly. “I will find the source of the attack,” he said. “A report has already been sent by messenger bird to HQ.”

“Good.” But she still grimaced. Anduin would not be happy. He might insist on recalling her and letting her crew continue the work without her.

“I found a Shadow,” Lars added. “Talked them into finding out what Shadowstep knows about this. She won’t take it lightly once she finds out the one who made her Prime Minister was attacked on her turf.”

Luciana offered him a nod, eyes on Slim. Their eyes had started to wander the tent. “It is mind control,” Lokaal said, his Light still flowing around and over Slim’s head and neck. “But it is not shadow magic. It is arcane. But...” His brow furrowed, only made more dramatic by his crest. The two longer tentacles attached to his neck twitched. “This is very odd, indeed. The magic is not set deeply at all, but it has made a deep impression, I think only because their mind is very young. Something is giving someone a lot of influence on younglings.”

“Lars, get scouts into Moonbrook with whatever adventurers that can stealth. Agent, you’re going in too.”

“Moonbrook is the source?” the agent asked.

“Most likely. There are a lot of angry people holed up in there. It’s volatile.”

“It will be done,” the agent promised with a curt nod.

“I’m going to bed,” Luciana sighed, giving a wave over her shoulder as she brushed the curtain aside. “Hey, puppy,” she murmured from behind it. “Yeah. I know. Too much excitement, and it’s only the first night. Yes, I know.”


	55. Target Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have all of Scarjaw written out already. I just fell behind updating it here. I've also got a lot of cool stuff planned for Adamant and Tyrant. "Fun" stuff.

Luciana gently pushed him until the backs of his legs hit the couch. Willingly he fell down into it, smiling loosely when she brought a knee up to rest it by his hip.

“How do you want it?” she murmured, bringing her mouth close enough that he could feel her breath. Slowly she slid a hand up his chest until it rested around his jaw. She brushed her thumb over his lips, gaze heavy, flicking from his eyes to his mouth. “Closed? Open?”

She pressed with her thumb, a prompt, and he willingly opened his mouth, unable to look away from her dark, hungry eyes. She smiled softly. Dangerously.

Her hand slid down to encircle his throat, powerful fingers around his delicate neck, and she leaned down to kiss him like she was consuming him. Tasting his tongue, pressing him down into the soft cushions of the sofa with her immense weight. She brought her other knee up, caging him, and he groaned into her mouth. He tried to touch her but she caught one hand and then the other and held them at his chest, controlling every moment, every breath.

“How do you want it?” she asked against his mouth. “Rough? You always like it rough.” She rolled her hips down against his bare skin, his bare cock, and he moaned shakily, breath stolen by the hand that tightened in increments around his neck. She released his hands but they felt caught, still, against his chest, and he held still while she toyed with him, enjoying every movement she made against his body.

He felt her hand around his cock, hot and rough, and moaned again, trying to buck up into her. But her weight was crushing him. She brushed the tip of his cock against herself, smiling and sighing in pleasure. “Oh, that’s nice,” she murmured, and let the head push into her, moving her hips in circles to tease herself but especially to tease him. Her hand was tightening still around his neck, slowly cutting off blood flow. His eyes starting to swim. All he could feel was her hand around his cock, her heat teasing the head. “You like it rough, huh?” she murmured. “Alright?” she asked as she tightened her hold on his neck even more.

He patted her arm gently. It was a signal they’d both used many times in the past. _Ease up. Give me a moment._ She’d always respect it. Her hand tightened. “You like it rough,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his temple. “You like it rough.” He could feel her breath on his ear. He couldn’t breathe. “You like it rough. I like to give it rough. Good thing, huh?”

He tried to speak, _can’t breathe, let me breathe,_ but he couldn’t breathe in to speak. He couldn’t breathe. He reached for his Light but it balked. He only needed it to push her away, just a gentle push, a reminder of her own strength that he knew she could sometimes forget. _I can’t breathe._ His Light didn’t want to push her, balked away from him like a nervous Guard from a cruel order. _I can’t breathe._

“You like it rough,” she murmured. Her voice was rough, deeper than he’d ever heard it. “I will claim what is rightfully mine. In the end it is the King’s whelp who comes to face me.” _I can’t breathe._ She was too heavy, she was crushing him under her weight and he couldn’t breathe. “Use your fear,” Luciana said, giving Anduin a grotesque smile that was too wide for her mangled jaw to manage. Unnatural. “Turn it on your foes. _Burn them.”_

“Can’t breathe,” he mouthed, the air whistling in his throat. _I can’t breathe_. “Luciana.”

“Die, whelp,” Luciana growled, and it wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her that was crushing him, it was heavy stone, darkness and _pain_ oh _Light make it stop. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

Anduin gasped, his whole body responding to the rush of air and tensing and curling forward. His hands struggled to find purchase for a few agonizing seconds, but they managed, and gripped the sheets under him so hard his arms shook. Sitting up, looking around, he reached for his Light in a blind panic and it rushed forward to fill him. He sobbed once, his breath catching in his chest, and exhaled in a rush. 

“Oh, Light,” he whispered, curling forward to wrap his arms around his stomach. His knees throbbed in pain, his back was screaming at him, everything hurt even with his Light trying to soothe it away. “Light, make it stop. Please. Light. Luciana, please. It hurts,” he choked, and then he remembered she wasn’t there. She was in Westfall. Out of reach of his shaking hand that grasped at the space she should have occupied.

He let himself cry at that, heaving, uneven sobs that shook his entire body. It _hurt_ , everything hurt and he couldn’t make it stop. He sat straight and his back still hurt, he bent his knees and they still hurt, everything hurt and Luciana wasn’t there to soothe him, fetch the healers who could help him, hold his hands so he couldn’t hurt himself scratching at the pain. His neck hurt like it was still being squeezed and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t manage his voice to cry out for his guards. He could only pray the SI:7 agents in the walls - _wallcrawlers,_ Lucy called them - would notice that something was wrong, that their Prince-soon-to-be-King was unbearable pain.

“Help,” he croaked. “Help me.”

Time passed slowly through the pain. He wondered, briefly, when he was able, if it was near sunrise. He wondered if the pain would ever stop. It always did, and he always worried it wouldn’t, that someone would have to kill him to make it stop.

It was only interrupted when light flooded the room, and now his head hurt even more than before. “Prince Anduin,” someone gasped, and a foreign, familiar Light rushed up against him.

“It hurts,” he groaned, feeling large hands encased in Light land on his back and on his head.

“Easy, Prince Anduin,” the Light-wielder soothed. A paladin. _Krino_ , he identified. “There is no source to the pain but your own mind. There is no reason for the pain. Think of something else and I will help you will it away.”

It wasn’t the first time Anduin had heard that. It didn’t make it any easier. He thought of Luciana, of what she’d be doing if she was here. Petting his hair, murmuring gentle words of encouragement and promises of safety. _I’m here. You’re safe now. I’m with you._ She’d press a cold towel to his forehead, rub a hand over his back slowly, distract him with whispered words while the healer she’d fetched worked into his mind and routed out whatever flashes of memories were plaguing him. Making his body feel like it was reliving them.

Slowly the pain faded. Anduin’s ears rang, and his breathing was ragged, and his eyes still swam like he was being strangled, like he couldn’t breathe, but the pain faded. “Easy,” Krino soothed. “Relax. Good. It’s almost done.”

When the pain was localized in Anduin’s lower back, its favourite place, he sighed shakily and sat up. “Thank you,” he murmured, not able to do much but stare straight ahead. If he moved too much, if he went too quickly, it could come back. It was a delicate balance, one he knew how to keep, but it still left a tremble in his fingers that was only kept from his voice with years of practice.

“I am glad I could help,” Krino said, his voice grave. “You were in great pain for no good reason. What triggered it?”

“Nightmare,” Anduin replied simply.

“I see. I am sorry.”

Anduin shrugged one shoulder weakly. “What time is it?”

“It was nearing the fifth hour when I felt your Light flare.”

Anduin nodded once. “I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep,” he said, thinking out loud. “I can’t start work like this.”

“Perhaps a walk outside will help to clear your mind of the shards of the nightmare?” Krino suggested. “Seeing that you are in a familiar, safe place will help, I think.”

“Yes,” Anduin said. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

“I shall tell your guards,” Krino said as he stood from where he’d knelt on the edge of the bed. His heavy hand landed on Anduin’s shoulder for a moment in an offer of comfort, warm past the thin shirt he’d worn to bed.

Anduin could do nothing but sit in silence for a long few minutes. Staring straight ahead, he could see that the hearth fire was low. “You’d keep me warm anyway,” he murmured, and then smiled. It was strained but genuine. Luciana would have kept him warm, it was true. She wouldn’t be gone long, he reminded himself. Only for another five or six days. She’d be leaving again, and for several years at least, but he tried not to think of that. Maybe it was good she’d found Dhavid for him. At least there would be someone nearby to help. Someone warm, and safe.

He managed to force himself to get out of bed. It took supreme effort to dress as he felt that the slightest bend or strain of muscle in the wrong direction would cause the pain to return. It didn’t even though he was so sure it would, and he managed to get himself dressed for the cold morning he’d be facing. He shrugged on a dark fur-lined coat, belted it at the waist and left the top buttons open for his scarf. He considered wearing his favourite pair of wool gloves, but left them behind. His other gloves would serve much better in the archery range.

He slipped them onto his hands as he walked, nodding to the three Royal Guards that broke away from the rest to accompany him. He took his time in walking to the rear courtyard and in adjusting his gloves. The worked leather was soft and supple, and they fit perfectly to his hands.

The rear courtyard had a practice area for warriors, and sparring rings and space for whatever else was needed. It was always a simple matter to set up the archery range, as the targets were kept prepared. They waited patiently in the shed for Anduin’s practice time.

He hadn’t had word sent ahead, but he knew how to set up the targets himself and with the help of a guard, he wrestled one into place. Last time, he’d brought Luciana along and she’d simply picked it up for him. But she was a warrior. He was capable and strong, but he was not a warrior, and he needed an extra set of arms and a back that didn’t hurt.

Practicing with the shortbow probably wouldn’t help his back, but he was going to do it anyway. He took a quiver from the shed and checked the straps before he filled it with arrows. He sorted through the ones available, picking the ones he liked, and when the quiver was full he carefully strapped it to its proper place at his waist. He chose a bow to use for practice, having left his own in its place in his bedroom, and tested it as well.

Satisfied, he left the shed and paced leisurely to the makeshift archery range. Already he could feel a familiar sense of calmness, of tranquility. Anduin took his place far away from the target, nocked an arrow, drew back, and waited. He breathed in, and breathed out, and relaxed the bow. He took a few steps forward, drew back, and breathed in. On the exhale, he released.

The arrow hit the target with a satisfying thud. He was off-center, in the first ring. He wanted to be in the center circle. He drew back again, adjusted, breathed in, and on the exhale he released. The arrow hit home in the red circle, but it was still off-center. He drew back again, and adjusted.

He shot arrows until the quiver was empty. Without a word from Anduin, a guard moved forward to collect the arrows. Sixteen in total. Anduin had counted. When the arrows were returned to his quiver, he took a few steps back, and repeated his motions.

When the sun was rising Anduin was at the limit of his range, he emptied his quiver and then stopped. It seemed that sixty yards, by his estimation, was his limit with the shortbow. A guard, like before, went forth to gather the arrows he’d shot into the rapidly degenerating target. He’d taken six rounds already.

While Anduin was watching the Royal Guard silently yank arrows out of the target, an Armed Forces courier came outside from the Keep’s rear entrance. He came as close as he dared to Anduin, and waited.

“What is it?” Anduin asked quietly. The morning was still and calm and he was loathe to break that with a loud voice.

“News from the Princess’ Westfall convoy,” the courier said. His voice was a bit too loud but Anduin ignored that. At Anduin’s nod, he continued “They arrived safely at Furlborrough, previously the Furlbrow’s farmstead. The Princess reports they were mostly well-received. A marriage was officiated at the Princess’ behest and there is a report that will arrive soon for a merchant’s bill for the rings she ordered for the wedded couple. Also, her Highness’ cousin, Marcellus Amadeus, has returned to Stormwind.”

“What else?” Anduin asked.

“The Princess was attacked by a Westfallen when she stepped out of her tent in the early morning after waking.”

Anduin stared blankly at the courier for a moment. He turned to face the guard who was approaching with his arrows. He slowly and carefully refilled Anduin’s quiver.

“She strongly suspects that there is mind control or some form of it at play, and has ordered a stay of execution for her attacker and an investigation into the suspected source of the mind control in Moonbrook,” the courier continued, his voice quieting even further.

Anduin drew an arrow from the quiver, nocked it slowly, and set his sights on the target. The arrow thudded into the top of the target, just barely hitting it. He drew another arrow, and on his exhale he sent it into the rightmost part of the target, again just barely hitting it.

“The attacker has been detained by Royal Guards,” the courier said slowly, eyes on the target that Anduin was slowly perforating with arrows. “She requests that you send for the attacker to be collected and safely detained in Stormwind until the investigations are complete.”

When the first four arrows were at the compass points of the target’s outer circle, Anduin started on the second round of arrows. He would fill in the same points of the next circle.

“The Princess wishes for me to explain that the attacker is a fourteen year old child who is called Slim, and whose mind has been severely damaged by rushed magic, which is why she has ordered a stay of execution despite the advice of her guards, including Princess’ Guard Lars Abelen.” The courier was warily eyeing Anduin now, even as he methodically arranged a cross into the target. When he had four arrows left, he lowered his bow to look at the courier.

“Who is responsible for the attack?” he asked calmly.

“The investigation is not yet complete.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Anduin said. “The Princess has some idea of who’s behind it. Who is it?”

The courier’s eyes darted to the target, filled in with almost perfectly arranged arrows, and then back to Anduin. “... She did question Slim,” he said after an extended silence. “There is apparently a man in Moonbrook with a rough voice who speaks to everyone within range, but through the mind rather than the voice. She suspects he is responsible for the shoddy mind control that has left Slim’s mind scarred.”

Anduin started unblinking at the messenger for a long moment, and then slowly turned back to the target. In only a few short seconds he sent his remaining four arrows into the center of the target. On the fourth he kept his arm up, the bow string quivering, and regarded his artwork with a critical eye. Slowly he lowered his bow to his side, and as his guard returned to the target to once again collect the arrows, Anduin turned back to the courier.

“Has she notified SI:7?”

“Yes,” the courier replied immediately, bowing his head for a moment. “She has sent word to their headquarters and she’s already sent agents on a recon mission to Moonbrook.”

“And she has decided to stay with her plan of accompanying the convoy through Westfall?”

“Yes. She believes it will send a better message than an immediate retreat after a single unsuccessful attack by a local.”

“I see.” Anduin’s voice was calm, almost serene. The messenger could not meet his gaze. “Has the King been notified?”

“She ordered me to deliver the message to you, first.”

“Do not relay it to the King,” Anduin said. “I will do so later today.”

“Your Highness,” the courier said, bowing at the waist. 

“He might kill you by accident in the resulting fury,” Anduin continued in the same calm voice. “And we don’t want that.” 

The courier swallowed thickly. “Do you have orders for me?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Anduin said. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the courier’s fear, but knowing that someone was feeling the consequences was somewhat reassuring. It also helped that the courier would communicate that fear to Luciana, whether purposefully or not, and she would in turn realize how serious Anduin was. “I have a message for the Princess,” Anduin continued. “Tell her that if there is any more trouble, whatever the outcome and whoever the instigator, I am going out to Westfall to meet with her and accompany the convoy as well, unless she returns to Stormwind. In which case, of course, I will remain here to welcome her back when she arrives.”

“I will go to deliver your message immediately, Your Highness,” the courier said.

“One more thing,” Anduin said.

“Prince?”

“Go to SI:7 and tell Matthias Shaw that he will put his best people on the situation in Moonbrook. My wife, the future Queen of Stormwind was attacked,” Anduin said calmly. “I want to know everything about everyone in Westfall,” Anduin said. “What sentiments there are, what politics and political leaders are emerging, what opinions are being voiced on every issue and every person. Whether it’s what people think about night elves, or what expressions and idioms have emerged in the last decade, I will know it. And soon,” he warned. “Shaw will know what I want.”

“I will bring your words safely to their intended recipients,” the courier promised, bowing again.

“You are dismissed,” Anduin said, and the man hurried away. Anduin turned back to the target, drew an arrow, and nocked it in silence.

“Your Highness, should I send a messenger bird to the Princess?” one of his guards asked.

“No,” Anduin said. “She’ll already know that I’m quite displeased with her situation, and her decision to detain the would-be assassin rather than sending them to be judged for treason.” He released the arrow and it hit its mark in the bull’s-eye of the target. “I was quite serious, you know. If there’s any other issue...” Another arrow hit the center. “I fully intend to find her in Westfall whether or not the King agrees with it.” Another arrow landed next to the first two. “If it’s necessary to force her to be careful, then it’s necessary,” he reasoned, sending a fourth arrow to join the others in the bull’s-eye.

 _I can take a hit,_ Luciana would tell him with a smile. A soft one. She wasn’t used to people caring so strongly about her safety. She was too used to being the powerful warrior, the meat shield, and not a loved one, not the one being shielded. She always gave him the same smile when he expressed his worry for her.

“I am not willing to lose her again,” Anduin said softly, nocking another arrow. “I will not live without her.”

He’d made that decision years ago, and he knew she’d made the same. Now he had the power to enforce it.


	56. Second Stop: Molsen

Anduin’s message reached Luciana several days into her journey. The courier interrupted her readings, but she saw him immediately and then dismissed him so he could take a break. He’d taken gryphons both ways and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d sent him off.

Luciana had known that Anduin would be irritated with her for what he undoubtedly saw as nothing other than her being stubborn. No, she thought, it’s not fair to say that. He would be worried for her, as well, and worried that the Barrens would happen again. But it would’ve sent a terrible message if she’d immediately backed out of Westfall. Firstly that she, and through her the House of Wrynn and the rest of Stormwind, was cowardly. Secondly that she was easy to push out. She refused to give whoever was responsible the satisfaction of knowing they’d pushed her out of Westfall. It belonged to the Kingdom of Stormwind, not to some lunatic that preyed on youths and sent them to their deaths against a berserker-Queen.

Luciana absently chewed on a mint leaf she’d plucked from its stem while she read over an expense report for their previous night. Lars had found her a sturdy enough chair to sit in with her armour, and she’d been convinced - forced - by Lokaal to accept it for the sake of her back. She’d also allowed them to find her a proper desk, though she had a suspicion someone had packed it anyway, knowing she’d need it.

It was the convoy’s first night spent in Molsen’s farm, colloquially referred to as simply Molsen. They weren’t doing too much damage so far, but she’d have to make sure her people knew they needed to watch how much they spent on cheap booze at the tavern. It built up quickly. They were in Westfall to give them the wealth they deserved from Stormwind, but not in such a crude and uncalculated manner.

With a sigh, she looked up from the papers in the hand. A moment later, an SI:7 agent slipped into the tent in silence. “Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing his head. “Three fresh adventurers here to see you.”

“I assume you’ve already determined they’re safe,” she said dryly.

“Of course.”

“Send them in,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Luciana raised her nose to sniff the air when the three adventurers took turns entering her tent in single file. The first was a female-born woman, Luciana assumed, a hunter who smelled strongly of grass and dust. She was accompanied by an ash-coloured coyote that was missing half an ear.

The second was a warrior, a male who stood a few inches taller than Luciana. He was thicker than her, fattier around his middle despite the generally poor state of Westfall’s population. She could tell he was a shield-bearer, even without the rough-hewn wooden shield strapped to his back. That band of fat around his midsection was no doubt to protect his internal organs from rupturing at heavy blows and heavier weights. He was likely kept well-fed by the hunter. The two moved around each other familiarly.

The third was a priest - no. Luciana sniffed again, and then she let herself relax slightly, let herself feel for the Light like she did at night when Anduin was asleep but his Light still moved. A paladin. It felt a bit different, though she couldn’t explain it like Anduin could. She could only say that the Light came from Anduin, markedly unique, but through the adventurer it seemed to come through him, as Goldrinn came through Varian. The paladin was the third adventurer, not as strong or wide as the other two but tall and straight-backed. Perhaps most importantly, he looked at her with an openly curious and unabashed gaze.

“Princess,” the hunter greeted, stepping forward and bowing shoddily. The fact that she’d even made the effort spoke volumes to Luciana, whose gaze landed evenly on the speaker. “I’m Elendi. This is Mack, and Green,” she said, gesturing to the warrior and then to the paladin. “We’re all Westfallen,” the hunter said. “I was born here, and so was Mack. Green was brought in with his mother and uncle when he was young.”

Luciana inspected the three briefly, and then focused on Elendi again. She’d let the hunter speak her piece.

“I know that you’re probably pretty careful of Westfallen,” Elendi said. “I heard what happened in Furlborrough. We’re not all like that,” she said. “That one just lost his fish, right.” She knocked her knuckles against her skull to illustrate. “Most of us just want to survive. To have the chance to survive, anyway.”

“Some are angry,” Luciana said. “They have every right to be. But they do not have the right to attack me.”

“No, of course not,” Elendi agreed. She seemed to lose track of her thoughts for a moment. Mack nudged her arm, and she recovered. “I’m a hunter,” she said. “Mack is a warrior...”

“I noticed,” Luciana said, and her eyes landed on Mack again. He looked at her the way she’d looked at Varian long ago. Wary, cautious, carefully unaggressive. He was aware of her fury, of the danger, and she smiled slightly. “Ease up,” she soothed, nodding to him. He tried to, at least, but she could see she was making him nervous.

“Green is a priest,” Elendi said, eyeing Mack oddly.

“Paladin,” Luciana corrected.

“Excuse me?” Green asked, his eyes wide and curious.

“Paladin,” Luciana repeated. “I’ve been around both kinds. They have different feels. You’re not a priest,” she said. “You have the Light, but it’s not the same as a priest. So you must be a paladin.”

“A healer,” Elendi said. “Either way, he’s a healer.” She recovered again from the interruption. “We came here to see if there was some way we could help you. That is, help the Stormwind... um, trailer,” she said. “You’re bringing good stuff into Westfall, and we don’t want you to stop just because one person didn’t like you.”

Luciana blinked slowly, crossed her arms over her armoured chest and leaned back in her chair. It creaked ominously under her, but she knew it would hold. She debated teasing them. She could pretend to suspect them of being assassins, or hired spies... but she decided not to. “Accepted,” she said after a long moment, during which Elendi fidgeted nervously and Mack’s fury began to roil as though pained by her silence. Or rather, by the threat of not knowing what her silence meant.

“What?” Elendi said. “I mean, thank you. Uh, that is, it’s an honour to... to serve you?” she said unsurely.

Luciana chuckled. “Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to bite your head off, though I have been known to do that in a fight. I look cruel, I know,” she said, gesturing to her jaw scars. “But even with my fury I’m more than just a warrior. As I’m sure Mack can tell you, we’re not just bloodthirsty, rabid beasts.” She uncrossed her arms and sat up, taking a blank paper and a pen from different parts of her messy desk. “Elendi the hunter,” she said. “What’s your pet’s name?”

“Dumdum,” Elendi answered suddenly, startled.

“Elendi and Dumdum. Mack the warrior. Green the paladin. Alright.” Luciana sniffed, and looked at Mack. “Are you a tank?” she asked. “You take hits so they don’t?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “’S why I got the bottom of a wagon strapped to my back.”

Luciana nodded again, and wrote a few quick notes on the three. “Alright. Any of you been to Moonbrook recently?” she asked.

“Yes,” Green answered. “It’s in complete shambles. Very chaotic. Everyone walks around like they’re in a trance, or... or they suddenly become hostile and attack each other. It’s real oddball,” he said, brow furrowing. “If you’re not outta Moonbrook, then you don’t get in there. Everyone knows that.”

“You went anyway,” Luciana provided.

“I was curious,” he shrugged.

“The Explorer’s League would love you,” she said.

“Explorer’s League?” Green asked, perking up like a curious dog. “That sounds fun.”

“They’re based in Ironforge, the dwarven city,” Luciana said. “We have one of their honorary members, Sunderstone, in our travelling party. He’s a shaman,” she added. “I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you all about it later.” Green smiled brightly, and Luciana returned it briefly. “How old are you all?” she asked.

“Seventeen,” Elendi said.

“Twenty,” Mack added.

“Eighteen,” Green said. “Since about a week ago.”

“You’re all very young,” Luciana commented quietly. “In Elwynn, you’d still be apprenticed to your class trainers, not out on your own.” She sighed heavily. “Elendi, go and see Isendir Shadewhisper. It’s easy to find him, he’s a night elf with green hair. He’s very noticeable out here. He’ll have something for you to do.” Elendi giggled, and then her face fell slack like she was in shock and she bowed her head hurriedly.

“Sorry,” she said. “Uh, yes, Your Majesty. I mean, Your Highness.”

Luciana watched her go, and then looked to Green. “Go and find Sunderstone,” she said. “You can help him with his duties and then when you’re done, ask him about the Explorer’s League. He’ll be happy you even asked.”

“Yes, Princess,” Green said, eyes lighting up in excitement.


	57. Mack

The tent was silent without the two other adventurers. Left alone with her, Mack quickly tensed and grew wary. Luciana’s fury hardly responded to his, accustomed as it was to people like Varian whose fury could fill the entire Keep even in his sleep, or Genn whose presence could be felt clear across the docks.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “I don’t bite. Come and sit.” She gestured to a chair that’s been set in the corner, and Mack moved slowly, never taking his eyes off her. She almost felt bad at how anxious she was making him merely by being in close proximity.

Mack set the chair opposite her, leaving the desk between them. “What is it?” he asked warily. He had to take the shield off his back to sit down. The chair creaked under him, but he wasn’t wearing true armour, just solid leathers and some patchwork chainmail.

“You’re a warrior?” Luciana asked. “Always hungry, never able to sit still, feel like you’re always just a hair away from vibrating out of your own skin?”

Mack’s jaw worked. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Mam just thought I was being dumb, not sleepin’ at night. And I was always askin’ for more food. She hated that.”

“But you weren’t being dumb,” Luciana said. “You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t lie still, you had to get up and do... something. Right?”

“Right.”

“It’s our lot in life,” she said with a sad smile. “We tear ourselves apart trying to flush out all of the energy. We just want to feel tired, feel like we’re finished, we did enough, we can stop now.”

Mack shifted in his chair, an uneasy expression on his face. “Yeah,” he said.

“All warriors feel that way,” Luciana said. She took her time removing her gauntlet, opening the strap that held it to her vambrace and tugging each finger a bit at a time. “If you’d had the chance to be near other warriors while you were still growing into your fury, you’d know it. In Stormwind, we have something called Conclaves. Each class has a place where they can contact other people like them, and share their experiences, ask questions of the more experienced people of their class, and be safe. The Warrior’s Conclave is in the Old Town, near the Military Command Center.”

“We don’t have towns,” Mack said.

“Not really,” Luciana said. “But not for long. You should have had a Conclave where you could learn about yourself as a warrior, and what it means to have the fury, and most importantly how to control it, channel it so you don’t destroy yourself or those around you.”

“I’ve been good,” he protested. “Haven’t hurt someone badly for seven months. Almost eight. Green helps,” he admitted quietly. “Does this thing where I calm down a bit when it gets bad, when somethin’ hurts him or Elendi.”

“He’s a paladin,” Luciana said. “The Light does help us. It can calm us, it can fix what our fury damages in us. I’m trying to find out more on that,” she said. “I know that the Light can help us. And when I know how that works, I will make sure all of my warriors can benefit. You’re not alone, Mack,” she said, tugging her gauntlet off. She set her arm on the desk, offering it palm-up. “Give me your hand, please.”

He was hesitant, but he did willingly place his hand on hers, and she smiled softly. His hands were bare, rough from broken calluses and infections that left scars. His fingers were thick, some obviously not healed properly after being broken. Compared to his hands, even Luciana’s seemed like they belonged to a civilian.

“You’re not alone,” she said again. “You feel like you are, despite Green, despite Elendi being with you. You feel like they can’t understand you, like there’s something blocking you from them, from the rest of the world. But you’re not truly alone. The Light is always with us,” she said firmly. “It always watches over us. I’ve killed people, Mack. I have enjoyed tearing limbs off of torsos, I’ve reveled in the feel of a skull broken and crushed in my hand. I’ve laughed with blood in my teeth while I stomped until someone’s ribcage was flat under me. But when I went to the Light, just wanting the pain to stop, just wanting to know that I wasn’t alone...” She paused, and Mack looked up to meet her gaze. His brow was furrowed, his eyes hollow. Empty of hope. 

“The Light accepted me,” Luciana said quietly. She could recall O’ros’ Light with such perfect clarity that it startled her. She could remember the warmth, the welcoming embrace of the Holy Light, and she smiled past the tears gathering in her eyes. “It welcomed me,” she said. “And I know now that it always will.”

“I ain’t you,” Mack said. “You’re a Princess with a priest husband. I ain’t you.”

“We’re very alike,” she said. “And what I received from the Light I will make sure that you do, as well. All warriors deserve this,” she said. “Our fury destroys us, and we suffer from it. But we don’t have to be alone.” She squeezed his hand briefly, offering comfort. She could see in his eyes what she knew Varian had once seen in hers, and it pained her. “We don’t have to hurt anymore. I know that I never asked for the fury, but I have it anyway. I lost so much because of it. But I went to the Light, and I asked why? Why me? Why must it hurt? Why can I not find peace? Or friends, true friends, who can understand me, who make me feel understood? And the Light answered me. And it will answer you, too,” she said firmly. “It will answer all of us, because in the end, we are all of the Light.”

Mack didn’t respond immediately, and she gave him time. She knew he needed it. She often did, too. “Sometimes, I just hurt,” he said quietly. His eyes were lowered, staring at her hand that still held his. “I wake up, just hurtin’, and Green can’t do anything about it. Everything’s all torn up and I can’t do nothin’ but cry. And pray,” he added softly. “But I ain’t never heard an answer before.”

Luciana gave his hand another squeeze, and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “You’re hearing it now,” she said. He was too young to have that pain, much younger than Luciana had been when it had started. But he’d grown up in conditions much worse than her, and she knew it would show. “I’ll promise you like I promised all of my warriors in Stormwind. I will find a way to ease the pain,” she said. “The loneliness. The despair. We wish for death because it’s the only way to end the hurting, to get out of the dark pit that we fall into. We realize that people around us, they fear us and avoid us because we’re too much, too fast, too much like a beast for them. But there is a way out of that. I’ve felt it. And I swear to you and to all warriors of my kingdom and beyond, I will find the way.”

Mack looked up at her then and met her gaze evenly. “Why does it hurt?” he asked. “Just, outta the blue.”

“Our fury drives our body to extremes,” she said. “We’re always ready for a fight, always ready to react, to jump up, to take off. We rarely ever sleep properly, because our body never lets itself fall into deep sleep. We need that deep sleep as humans to give our bodies true rest, but warriors can hardly manage to sleep at all, let alone deeply. And that takes its toll,” she explained. “By the time we’re in our mid-twenties, we’re in bad shape, but our bodies keep going on high. You’re a bit too young to have started it, but the conditions here probably sped it up. I’m nearing my thirtieth year,” she said. “And if it weren’t for O’ros - a Naaru, a being of pure Light residing with the draenei in the Exodar - I would be in such bad shape.” She laughed quietly, bitterly. “I wouldn’t be able to function anymore. The damage builds up. It’s especially bad for fury warriors like myself, because we tend to let our fury take control too often. There’s no other way, we think,” she said. “But there is. I’m going to find it and bring it to everyone.”

Mack was staring at her hand again. “I hear you got kids,” he said.

“Yes, three. Twin boys, and a daughter.”

“I didn’t know we could have kids. Didn’t know anyone would want our kids.”

Luciana smiled softly then, reminded of Anduin. “My husband,” she murmured, “is a very kind man. He wanted me, before he knew what I truly was. He wanted me and he reached out to help me because he saw I was suffering. Despite the distance I kept between us, he still wanted to help me, to see me recover from whatever it was that was plaguing me. And when he did see the truth... Well, he embraced me. I think maybe he’s always seen it, but I was in too much pain to see that. And even when he saw the beast inside me, when I berserked and destroyed and killed everything around me, he still loved me, and trusted me, and was gentle with me. I was lucky,” she said. “I was lucky that his Father the King was a warrior like me, who understood, and I was lucky that Anduin was a priest and a man so wise beyond his years.”

“I ain’t so lucky,” Mack said.

“You don’t need luck. You’re a warrior,” Luciana said, smiling. “We make our own luck. Remember this, Mack. We don’t have magic. We don’t have the Light, or beasts by our side, or shadows and poisons. We have these,” she said, releasing his hand to hold up her own and flex it. “And we have this.” She tapped her breastplate over her heart. “And we have fury that can sunder mountains. All we have is our own body, and the anger to fuel it. And yet,” she said. “People like you, like me... we are the frontline. We are always the first ones to the fight, the first ones to the feast. Despite the pain and the despair, we keep marching through blood and mud and we never stop fighting.”

Mack smiled, breaking the quiet mood that had fallen over him. “And never stop eatin’,” he joked.

“First to the fight, first to the feast,” Luciana chuckled. “I promised to find the way to help warriors,” Luciana said. “To help ease the pain, to chase away the misery and hopelessness that our fury causes. And I will,” she said firmly. “But you need to promise me something, Mack.”

“What’s that?” he asked, meeting her gaze again.

“Never stop fighting.” She stared at him, unblinking and hard. “Never surrender to your despair. Never give up control of yourself. You are a warrior,” she said. “You carry a heavy burden and you still get up every morning. You still fight.”

“We’re made for it.”

“Yes, we are. And we never stop fighting, and sometimes we wish we didn’t have to always fight just to be able to sit still for an hour. But there’s two sides to that. We never stop fighting while we chase rest, but we never stop fighting even when the entire world seems to have given up. Never stop fighting,” she said. “And I will find us all a place to rest.”

Mack didn’t respond immediately. When he did, he lowered his eyes before he spoke. “I didn’t think there’d be any end to it,” he said quietly. “I thought it was all just me bein’ selfish and stupid. But if you say it ain’t...”

“It isn’t,” Luciana said.

Mack nodded a few times, apparently to himself. “Well,” he said, looking up. “I guess I’ll follow you, then.”

“Follow the Light,” Luciana said. “It will never lead you wrong. I am fallible, Mack. I get angry and I get selfish. I only want the best for my people, but I have a family to take care of and I will protect them first. I get angry and protective and I don’t always care about anything other than the fact that someone is my enemy. But the Light knows right from wrong, and its priests and paladins know it too. Follow the Light.”

“Ain’t you followin’ it?”Mack said. “And anyway, I’d rather follow you. You’re like me,” he said, and then his eyes widened. “You’re just like me. So I’ll follow you,” he said resolutely. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Then follow me into the Light,” Luciana said. “Go on, now,” she sighed, leaning back into her chair while she reequipped her gauntlet. “If you can find one of the draenei from my party, they can tell you more about the Naaru and the Light as they know it. They’re all Light-blessed, you know,” she said. “Even a hunter or a mage or a warrior of their people can wield the Light in short bursts. It’s really something else.”

“I’ll go an’ see, then,” Mack said, standing. “Uh. Should I, uh, bow?”

“You can put the chair back,” she teased. “Mack, anyone who bows to me only does it because they want to. I never ask if of people, but I never refuse it.” She could only imagine the face one of her Nobles would wear if they’d heard her say that. It wasn’t untrue, but it was commonly accepted that one was to bow to a Royal. To say that a commoner didn’t have to genuflect and show her proper respect would have been appalling. But she wasn’t in Stormwind. She was in Westfall, surrounded by Westfallen. It wasn’t practical, she reasoned, to come in as a Royal. It was much better to come in as some kind of General, like the old warrior aristocrats of Arathi who looked after their own soldiers first. She was a warrior-Knight who earned respect rather than demanded it from a people who were bitter towards Royals.

“So I should kneel,” Mack clarified.

“Mack,” Luciana laughed. “Only kneel if you want to. If people are unhappy with my rule, I need to know so I can change how I operate. To a certain extent,” she added. He didn’t need all the details, and she didn’t give any.

“But I want to,” he argued.

She half-smiled and gestured. “Then I won’t stop you.”

He quickly dropped to one knee, sending a small puff of dust up from the ground. He lowered his head, braced his hand on his knee, and held it for a moment. Then he looked up. “I don’t know any fancy oaths,” he started.

“I don’t need it,” Luciana said. “Just promise to respect and obey my rule, so long as I respect you and your people, and we’ll call it a day.”

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Great.” Luciana nodded. “I accept your word. Now, go and find a draenei and ask about the Naaru. I’m sure they’ll be happy to tell you all about them.”

“Alright.” Mack stood and with some difficulty, reattached his makeshift shield to the harness on his back. “Um, Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head stiffly before leaving the tent.

Luciana leaned back in her chair, and sighed heavily. “Light, I’m tired,” she swore.


	58. Third Stop: Gold Coast Quarry

Her armour was a familiar, comforting weight, but it was also constricting and she shifted uncomfortable in her chair. “I haven’t had a good fight in ages,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve been having nightmares again and I lost almost a full hour last night. You weren’t there to wake me out of that stupor.” She laughed quietly to herself, smiling crookedly. “Wish I was with you,” she murmured under her breath. “Then I wouldn’t need to talk to myself. Then again, if you had some papers in front of you, I’d have to yank your ponytail to get any attention.” She chuckled quietly. “Or drop my pants. Your ears’ll go red and I’ll laugh and then we’d have a nice little time.” Her smile grew. “Oh, you wonderful, beautiful man. I didn’t ever think I could love as much as I love you.” 

She found a pattern in the roof of the tent and followed it with dagger-sharp eyes. “I lose my breath when you look at me with those soft eyes. I’d bind my soul to yours if I wasn’t so sure it’d sully you like a muddy boot print. I’d tie us together so we’d always find each other, in any timeline. I just can’t get enough of you. I can’t seem to find a way to give you enough of me, either. And why can’t I ever say these things to your face?” she said, scowling suddenly. “I talk to myself just fine but when you’re staring me down with those pretty blue eyes, it gets stuck.”

She sighed heavily and heaved herself out of the chair. Shauna perked up, ears halfway up and halfway down in typical boxer terrier fashion. Her dark eyes watched Luciana keenly as she moved about the tent.

“Hey, pup,” Luciana crooned to Shauna. “What’re you looking at? Huh?” she teased. “You looking at me? Cutie. No offense,” Luciana added. “You’re wonderful company. I just miss my husband.” Maybe some company would be good for her, after all. Someone nondescript, out of the way, but still a human, still a companion. Anduin was probably right to push for her to take Glen. He usually was right when it came to her health.

Shauna tilted her head at Luciana. A sudden noise, something like a chunk of wood falling in the dirt, had Shaun whipping her head around, alert. Her ears moved, trying to listen in. Luciana watched her, then turned to face the same direction and concentrated. She was supposed to have the ears of a wolf. It was time to test that.

_“Watch the noise! You’ll wake... camp!”_

_“...lies. You know it is. Just... all bullshit. No, I don’t care! They can listen all... day long, but... Are right... Yeah, I heard about that. Just a set up... it! She’s just like... All the same. Royals. They’re all...”_

_“Shut up, man! You know you... for treason. And she didn’t take... But she’d take you. You’re... raisin’ trouble of all kinds. Keep your trap... live longer than... And anyway, she’ll still... gnolls and murlocs. Maybe even the last Defias. And then... Westfall for ourselves. Like we should. After...shit, we should be able... our own damn country.”_

_“But the Shadowstep... made her governor?”_

_“She’s been good... stay. But the rest?”_

Luciana moved silently to the tent flap, pushed it aside, and motioned to one of her guards. “Two men, older, whispering about me a ways down that way.” She pointed. “Have an agent keep an ear out.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard nodded.

“And I’m not to be disturbed unless there’s an emergency for the rest of the night.” The guard nodded once more, firmly. She retreated back into her tent. She’d listen to the report in the morning.

It came all too soon for her. She’d spent the night dozing with Shauna over her chest, keeping her breathing down to a relatively slow pace. She couldn’t breathe too quickly or risk dislodging the warmth and softness of her dog. So she’d tried to relax, and she’d even started to yawn. Her semi-waking dreams were weird and flashy, and she remembered something about pushing someone yelling about her favourite soap through a doorway while using the door as a brace. She shook it from her mind, let the dog out of the tent, and got to her feet.

“I take it there were no emergencies?” she said dryly. Lars was at her desk, eating a crumbling pastry over her papers while he read something.

“Nope. This came in from SI:7, though.” He handed her what he’d been reading. “On those two whisperers last night.”

“Thanks. Get out of my chair.”

He moved and she sat, and then he took the arm of the chair. “It’s digging into my ass,” he commented.

“Then get your skinny ass off it.”

He didn’t. She kept reading.

She hummed, flipped to the next page, and finished reading the concise report. “I don’t see an immediate issue,” she said quietly. “What they’re thinking is pretty much what I knew they’d be thinking.”

“Means you were right. Again.”

“Mm-hm. Find me Naemete, would you?”

“Sure.” He tossed down a ripe apple onto her desk and she sniffed it. Stormwind’s famous Red Sweetie. She smiled and bit into it eagerly. “You know, Cap,” he said.

“Probably. What?”

“You’re used to doing everything yourself. But you can’t do that anymore. Especially not something like this. This is something you get someone else to do for you. You’ve got a chain of command now. You gotta use it.”

She bit into the apple again, chewed and swallowed before speaking. “I went from the bottom rank to the top and skipped everything in between. So you’re right, I still want to do everything myself. But I do know better than that.” She raised both eyebrows at him and he looked unashamed. “I appreciate the concern, Lars.”

“Sure thing, Cap.” He left without another word, and she returned to her apple. They’d bring her more food soon now that they knew she was awake.

They’d be moving out of Molsen in the early afternoon so that they’d arrive at the Gold Coast Quarry while there was still sunlight. A special envoy from the Explorer’s League would come in and Luciana’s people would set up camp and leave behind some of their guards. The League would survey the land around the old stone quarry and see if anything more could be taken out safely to rebuild Stormwind City’s broken cliffs. She’d also direct any adventurers she found useful to them. Hopefully they could set it up again and get the employment numbers up in Westfall, at least until something more permanent could be started.

“Maybe I’ll send those three,” she murmured to herself as she reread the Explorer’s League’s proposal. “Locals. It would look better. Less invasive. Their opinions would count for something...”

She signed off on the proposal and set it aside. Food was brought in while she was working, and soon after that, Isendir slipped into the tent and waited patiently by the entrance.

“What is it?” she asked without looking up.

“I am here to ensure you are in good condition,” he said in his slow, creaking voice.

“Come in,” she sighed, gesturing him in. She pushed away from her desk as he approached, giving him space to move around her. But she didn’t put down her work. “We’ll be moving on in a few hours. I’d like you to find the three Westfallen adventurers who I spoke to earlier. Mack, Green, and Elendi. I want them to stay at the Gold Coast Quarry with the League. Either you or Sunderstone will stay with them, as well.”

“I take it our duties would be to ensure the land is in a condition appropriate for quarrying?” he asked while his soothing magic flowed over her. The sound of rustling leaves, hardly audible, accompanied it.

“Exactly,” Luciana said, ignoring the tingling and random tightening of her muscles. As Isendir’s magic moved through her flesh she felt it twitch. Something in the back of her shoulder jumped and then her back tingled and tightened, and it kept moving. “And to keep an eye on those three kids. They could be quite useful. They’re locals, and they’ve got some skill. If there’s an opportunity to help them grow into champions, I’d like to take it.”

“I understand. We will watch over them.”

When it came time to leave Molsen, Luciana had only to bellow an order. “Pack up!” and within moments the camp began to swarm. It quickly grew into something resembling a disturbed ant hill. 

They only needed the afternoon to reach the next point on Luciana’s map. Westfall’s great farms had been built relatively close together to ease transfer and communication, and the quarry had originally been placed with that same intention. It was the mountainous south of Westfall, beyond the Dagger Hills, that could make travel tricky. That region was rarely visited, and as far as Luciana knew, was mostly unoccupied. The northern half was comparatively easy to traverse, even with an entire caravan.

The road to the old quarry wasn’t overly long, but the caravan moved slowly and they reached their destination less than an hour before sunset. “Bring me the Explorer’s League team,” she ordered to no one in particular, and she heard two of the guards closest to her quickly murmur to their fellows that they would find the envoy.

She let Thunderer draw close to the edge of the cliff. Overlooking the Great Sea was the Gold Coast Quarry. Great chunks of its rock face had been hewn from it, and the edges had smoothed over the years into something that looked almost natural. As far as she could tell it looked sturdy enough to give a bit more, but she was no geologist or shaman.

Which was why she’d brought some along for the ride. Thunderer protested when she turned him around but he turned anyway, allowing her to stare down imposingly at the dwarves approaching her.

“Yer Highness,” the lead dwarf started, bowing to her. The others followed suit. “I’m Gramodan o’ the Battlehammer Clan. I’m head o’ the Explorer’s League envoy. Th’ Council of Three Hammers asked me ta head up the envoy, as I’m more experienced with leading large-scale projects like this. The Council sends their regards to ye, Princess Luciana,” he said. “I’d like to give my personal assurances that we’ll be adhering te th’ strictest o’ quality control in this project.”

“I know you will,” Luciana said evenly. “Considering Westfall is such a precious thing to us.”

He nodded. She ignored how nervous the dwarves were getting. “To start, we’ll be surveyin’ th’ old quarry, the land underneath it, the stone itself, and then the land around us. We’ll be gettin’ as much detail as possible, quickly, so that we can send a report ta Stormwind.”

“Good. I believe you’re familiar with Sunderstone?”

“Aye, we all know him,” Gramodan confirmed.

“He’ll be your liaison to the Earthen Ring, if you need more shaman. If you need anything else, request it from the Requisitions Office in Stormwind. I’ll be leaving you with a member of my group, Isendir Shadewhisper, for the primary survey. He’ll set up three adventurers that I’m leaving you, as well as a way for more to join you. They will help to keep the murlocs off your back, as well as curious gnolls.”

“As ye wish,” Gramodan said. “By your leave, Yer Highness, we’ll get started right away on settin’ up camp.”

“Dismissed,” Luciana said, letting them hurry away from her. Thunderer snorted, pawed at the dirt, and she sighed and clicked her tongue. “Alright, let’s go. Henry!” she called, motioning to one of her mounted guards. “We’re going for a run. Come on.”

Henry tapped his horse’ flanks gently with his heels and she let him and one other mounted guard catch up before she let Thunderer loose. True to his name, he thundered down the path and then veered off to run along the edge of the cliff, at one point outright sprinting. Luciana moved with him, and when he took off at full speed she crouched in the stirrups, loosely grasping the reins and letting him run wild. Her guards kept up easily, as Chargers were naturally a bit faster than their heavy cousin, the Westbrook Warrior. But they gave Thunderer a wide berth. He was a war horse, and he liked to fight almost as much as Luciana. Anduin sometimes joked that Thunderer thought he was actually a human warrior.

Thunderer came to a slow when he wanted to, breathing hard and prancing, snorting and whinnying and tossing his head. Luciana directed him back towards the caravan’s temporary camp, the mounts of her guards just as winded as her own. Thunderer pranced back into camp, still panting and frothing a bit at the mouth.

“Had a nice run?” Lars asked, pushing off from a caravan wagon to take Thunderer’s reins. Now that he was tired, he let Lars direct him to a watering trough.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” Luciana said, sliding easily from Thunderer’s back to walk beside him. She gave the horse’s flank a few pats and left him with Lars. “Where’s Lokaal and the kid?”

“Over by the back end of the caravan. The Prince’s people are supposed to be by later tonight to collect the kid for detainment in Stormwind.”

Luciana inhaled slowly, taking in the scents of the camp. Freshly disturbed dust and dirt, trampled yellow grass, wood and leather and sweat. “It feels smooth,” she murmured.

“Too smooth. Storm’s coming in,” Lars agreed. “Think we should keep a lookout?”

Luciana nodded. She glanced at him over her shoulder, meeting his dark eyes. “Double up the guards.”

Lars nodded again. When Luciana released his gaze he slipped away like a snake, disappearing into the bustle of the caravan.

Luciana turned and marched towards the back of the camp. No one stood in her way, least of all because she was a warrior in full plate armour and even if they tried, it would be hard to stop her.


	59. Recall

Wrathion was not an idiot. Though he could be aggravating, usually purposefully, he was keenly aware of how to play people. He could use either rewarding words and a smooth voice, or sheer irritation that would tire them of his presence and get him what he wanted. Thankfully, while Anduin would welcome a distraction, Wrathion was not an overtly disrespectful person, either.

Anduin had a lot of work left to do and relatively little time to do it. He had to make sure the plans for the creation and construction of the Stormwind University District were as complete and perfect as they could possibly be. He’d parcelled the work and shared the load among the people who would soon be his Royal Advisors and project managers. But without Luciana there to ground him and to keep him from running himself into the dirt, Anduin had already lost two full days to a temporary bout of pain and the resulting exhaustion and headaches.

With an aggravated sigh he signed off on the Requisitions Office report on food for the coming celebrations. He reached for whatever was next in the pile of work his father had handed over, but Wrathion’s smooth voice interrupted it. “I think it’s about time for you to take a break. Isn’t it almost time for the Stockade Wardens to be returning from Westfall with our young would-be assassin?”

Anduin’s hand fell to the desk.

“Ah, I see,” Wrathion hummed. “That’s the issue, isn’t it? You’re anxious that what we discover from the young one’s mind would mean more trouble for your dear wife.”

“Luciana can handle herself,” Anduin said, but his voice wasn’t as firm as he would have liked. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and ignoring the way his hands dragged some papers along with them. He crossed his arms loosely, and looked up at the ceiling, away from his desk. “I don’t like what we’ve already learned about the situation in Moonbrook. No matter what we do, it’s risky. It’s a powder keg. A dirty powder keg full of ghosts.”

“You _could_ send someone who’s flame retardant.”

Anduin rolled his eyes. “It’s not that simple, and you know it,” he replied tartly. Wrathion wasn’t an idiot, but he liked to pretend sometimes. Just to get on Anduin’s nerves. “Someone there is apparently using arcane magic to employ mass mind control and send assassins after Luciana. It’s a clear message. I’m worried that it might be connected to other situations we’ve had in the past.”

“Like when the twins were born?” Wrathion asked. “And then with Freya’s arrival. The whisperers that Damran, ah, took care of?”

Anduin nodded. “What’s worse,” he sighed, “is that they used a local teenager. People will start to think that all Westfallen want Stormwind out of Westfall in entirety. Thankfully, Luciana didn’t kill Slim,” Anduin said. “She must have known how terrible that would have looked.”

“Image is important,” Wrathion agreed. “She would know that.”

Anduin sighed, and stood stiffly, bracing his hands on his desk. Wrathion looked up at him. Anduin hadn’t allowed him to share the work load of the more sensitive kind, so he’d taken residence on Anduin’s lounge chaise with some of Luciana’s books on the end table.

“Break time, after all?” Wrathion asked with a knowing smirk. His red eyes glittered at Anduin in the light from the hearth, and Anduin smirked right back.

“You shouldn’t be so snide,” Anduin said. “You’ll be going to Moonbrook.”

Wrathion raised his eyebrows, a considering expression on his face. “It could be a good idea,” he said. “I am, after all, fireproof. Resistant to shadow magic and mind control, a tiny bit harder to kill than your average human, relatively unknown in those parts, naturally conniving, and devilishly handsome.”

“You’ll be wearing a new disguise. Or,” Anduin said thoughtfully. “You’ll be masquerading as an adventurer commissioned by SI:7. And I’ll have Shaw send someone versed in mind control to assist you. I’ve heard some things about one of his newer recruits. Locke. She could be useful.”

Wrathion gave a put-upon sigh. “I suppose the protection of the Royal family has its downsides,” he said. “Very well. I’ll go. Perhaps this will be what convinces Luciana to stop strangling me.”

“She likes choking,” Anduin said.

Wrathion grimaced. “Has anyone ever told you that you overshare?”

Anduin laughed and gave Wrathion’s shoulder a pat as he passed. “I’m sending for food. Are you hungry?”

“Famished. Human portions are so... small.”

“Luciana would tell you otherwise.” Anduin grinned. “I think she’s quite satisfied with my portion.”

Wrathion groaned. “You are terrible,” he announced. “She is a terrible influence on you. You used to be so... pure. And now, look at you. Dirty jokes, flying through the air every which way.”

“That’s odd. Normally it’s clothes. Or, you know.”

Wrathion made a noise of disgust, but Anduin saw the flash of serrated fangs Wrathion threw at him before slipping his ring of illusion back onto his hand. It was just in time for Anduin to open the door to speak to the guard outside to send for an early dinner.

When Anduin shut the door, Wrathion’s eyes tracked him back to his desk. “Won’t you be spending dinnertime with your children?” he asked.

“I’ll see them after,” Anduin replied, returning to his desk. “Father and the Greymanes will be with them. I think Tess and Deacon will bring Liam by afterward for playtime.” 

“I would think that you’d jump at the chance to spend time with your children.”

Anduin sighed, and stared down at the papers in front of him. The words weren’t swimming yet, but their black ink seemed overly harsh against the paleness of the paper. He read a few lines. Something about the cost of furnishing temporary abodes in the rear of the Cathedral Square to host the masses that would be visiting from the other provinces. Anduin scribbled a note - _See about extending it to Goldshire and Northshire Abbey_ \- and circled the part stating that important political figures would be housed in the Keep itself, and wrote another note - _Also room in the Old Town, possibly Dwarven District for extended envoys from IF and Gnmrgn. Basic archi outside Gates like Wickerman_ \- and then set his pen down.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t be working instead of spending time with them.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” Wrathion said dryly. “Shall we?” he said, motioning to the door. “I’ll let the guard know to recant the order from the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” Anduin nodded, and Wrathion stood and brushed imaginary dust from his coat.

Anduin heard the murmur of Wrathion’s false voice, and made himself stand again. His knees ached, and his back hurt, and his head pounded behind his eyes. He held a hand to his forehead and with a thought, send a little thrill of Light that resonated between his temples, easing the ache. He put his hand to his stomach and sent Light through it to his spine, easing the pressure against his vertebrae. Then he concentrated the Light in his hand and gestured vaguely towards his knees, sending a stream of healing energy to reduce the swelling and cushion the edges of his bones.

“Better?” Wrathion asked quietly. Or, perhaps Anduin couldn’t hear him past the echo of the Light that hadn’t quite faded from his head. What he could clearly see was the odd look in Wrathion’s eyes, too bright to be normal. Anduin couldn’t spare a thought to it right then. He resolved to think on it later, when his thoughts weren’t so muddled.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“Am I joining you tonight?”

“You might as well. We’re going to have three little kids to entertain.”

“Here comes Uncle Marcellus,” Wrathion grumbled.

“When you go with Luciana to Kalimdor, you’ll have to be careful with Freya,” Anduin reminded him. “Enaeon says that her sensitivity is worsening. Two weeks ago she apparently threw a fit about how loud one of her caretakers was being.”

“Does she not use sound to describe the way magic feels to her?” Wrathion asked, walking a step behind Anduin to prevent people from spreading more rumours about how familiar and disrespectful he was towards the Royal family.

“Yes, which is why we’re worrying. The Light should be soothing, and yet...”

“And yet, it grieves her enough to cause fits.” Wrathion frowned. “That is quite odd. Might it be a disorder of the brain caused by her odd birth?”

Anduin grimaced. “I hope not,” he said. “They’re not common, and there’s no way to cure a problem like that.”

“Perhaps it will benefit her to have her mother there, rather than you,” Wrathion said. “Luciana has no magic to speak of. Perhaps she’ll be able to silence the world for the little girl.”

“You’ll need to be careful,” Anduin said again, turning the corner to walk down the hall that led to the larger private dining room. They’d need the extra space for the Greymanes. With a jolt he remembered the first time Luciana had used the room.

_“This is where we go when the court gets... heated,” Varian offered, lowering his voice. “You know what it’s like to be a Noble. Being a Royal is only worse.”_

_“And I’m going to be a part of it?” Luciana asked._

_“One day. Soon, I imagine,” Varian answered._

_“You’re always welcome here, though,” Anduin added with a friendly smile._

Luciana’s back had ached and Anduin had eased it, sending healing magic through her hand - the only thing she’d allowed him to do at the time. Realizing he’d paused a few paces away from the door, he strode towards it, Wrathion not questioning his odd silence.

“Papa!” greeted him immediately when he opened the door. Bolvar tugged himself out of Varian’s grip, leaving behind a napkin and an exasperated King and some form of dirt left on his cheek.

“Papa!” Alaric said, pushing himself unceremoniously out of his high chair and half tumbling towards Anduin. He latched onto Anduin’s leg, his face shoved into the cloth of Anduin’s pants and his voice muffled.

“Up!” Bolvar demanded, and then looked at Wrathion. “Uncle, up!”

“Alright,” Wrathion said, offering a fond smile as he stooped down to pick up Bolvar. “Shall we sit, little Prince?”

“Yeah, right there,” Bolvar said, pointing at his high chair. “You can sit next to me an’ Lim.”

“How generous!” Wrathion said. As he sat, he looked at Liam. “Hello, Liam.”

“Hi, Lim,” Bolvar echoed.

Varian’s eyes were sharp on Wrathion as he passed and his gaze softened when he looked at Anduin, who’d picked up Alaric to move him back to his own high chair. “How are you doing?” Varian murmured, reaching out to give Anduin’s shoulder a squeeze. “You look tired. Worried?”

“Anxious to get Luciana’s prisoner to a holding cell,” Anduin replied just as quietly. “Marcellus had to force me out of my distractions.” Unfortunately, Wrathion had very few chances to show his true face. Not even the Greymanes knew the truth of his presence. Or perhaps it was fortunate. It cut down his chances to purposefully aggravate Luciana in a way that would allow her to hit him. Dragons, even in mortal guise, tended to be tougher than frail humans like Cousin Marcellus, so she had to be careful not to do anything that would give it away.

“Work can’t be everything,” Varian said. “You’re probably not hungry, but you should eat all the same. Luciana should be at the old quarry in the Gold Coast right now, giving out orders for the surveyors from the Explorer’s League. It won’t be long.”

Anduin sighed, and offered his father a tight smile. “I know. I still worry.”

“I know,” Varian said understandingly. “Sit, eat. Let us distract you. It’ll help.”

Anduin nodded, and took his seat. Deacon sat to his right at the rectangular table and Varian sat to his left, at the head. Genn took the other head and everyone else found a place in between. “Anduin, glad to see you,” Mia greeted, smiling warmly.

“And you,” Anduin said with a small but genuine smile.

“You look as exhausted as I feel,” Tess grumbled, and then the plain door tucked away in the corner opened to a small army of servants bearing food. “Oh, good. I smell garlic.”

She sniffed the air, and Deacon chuckled. “Trying to be a worgen, dear?” he asked, and Tess mimicked him mockingly.

“Shut up and eat,” she ordered. “You know why we haven’t finished planning the ships from Darnassus. We haven’t even finalized the guest list!” she sighed. “You’re doing that tonight,” she said, pointing at Deacon. He only chuckled and nodded.

“Of course, dear.”

They all dug in, and Anduin watched with no small amount of humour at the similar ways Genn and Deacon ate. They chewed a little too aggressively, and he imagined Shauna’s open-mouth, dramatic chewing, and nearly snorted in laughter. He covered it with a sip of his wine, and looked at his father. He ate nearly the same way, like he’d been starved before being allowed to sit down for a meal.

“It’s not going to run off, Father,” Anduin said, looking pointedly at the steak Varian was tearing into. “It’s already dead.”

Mia tittered a laugh, and Wrathion chimed in with a quiet chuckle from across the table.

“Had to be sure,” Varian snipped right back before shoving a piece of nearly raw meat into his mouth and chewing it smugly, not breaking Anduin’s gaze. Anduin only rolled his eyes and returned to his own meal, smiling. He could soothe his aches with the Light and ease anxiety, even his own if he concentrated, but he was still learning that the best way to ease the tight ball of anxiety in his gut was to sit down with his family.

The meal itself was delicious, and the company was as it usually was. Tess made a dirty joke, her mother admonished her then made a dirtier one that made Deacon choke on his wine, Anduin patted his back and made sure he wasn’t in danger, Genn gave a put-upon sigh and remarked upon the distinct lack of modesty in today’s women, Mia made another joke that made Alaric ask an awkward question, and Varian successfully distracted him while glaring pointedly at a smiling Mia.

By the time Anduin was returning to his chambers with the disguised Wrathion in tow, leaving his sons in the hands of their caretakers for a little while longer, he felt lighter. Luciana had once told him that he’d work himself to death trying to plan out every hour of his future. She seemed to love to remind him of the times he’d driven himself to sickness because he hadn’t taken care of himself past his work. He did what he did to keep his people in a good place, but she reminded him that he had to keep himself in a good place, too.

And she was right, of course. Though she wasn’t innocent of working too much, she was a warrior and therefore a good bit hardier than Anduin. He sometimes envied her for it, though not for the aggressive stubbornness that seemed to accompany it.

“There’s news coming,” Wrathion murmured, and stepped aside.

“Your Highness,” the Royal Guard said, hurrying up to Anduin and then coming to a sudden halt, saluting sharply. “You’re needed in the Home Guard’s Head Office.”

“What’s wrong?” Anduin asked, motioning for Wrathion to follow. He knew he was perfectly safe in the castle, but he’d grown accustomed to having Luciana in the Keep and had, perhaps mistakenly so, grown to associate her presence with his own safety. She would obviously protect him, but he knew he’d grown a bit dependant on that feeling of security. Wrathion, while disguised, was still a dragon and would at least give some reassurance. To his credit Wrathion didn’t comment, nor did he give Anduin a look, merely followed like Marcellus Amadeus usually did.

“The group sent to collect Her Highness’ prisoner was ambushed on their return.”

“Casualties?”  
“I don’t know the numbers, Your Highness,” the guard said apologetically. “I was merely sent to alert you.”

“Fine,” Anduin said, not unkindly, and took the lead to the Home Guard’s quarter in the castle. As the overarching organization to which the City Guard belonged, the Home Guard was the paramilitary sector of the Armed Forces that defended Stormwind’s civilians settlements. They held control over the Stockades and acted as its jailers and it was their people, the Stockade Wardens, who’d been sent to collect the would-be assassin.

Their head office was relatively full by the time Anduin arrived. His father was not there and he didn’t let it bother him. “Give me a full report,” Anduin ordered, taking the place his father would usually take at the head of the map table in the center of the room. He stared at a painstaking recreation of the Kingdom of Stormwind. The province of Westfall had iron characters on it, little imitations of mounted Wardens and Royal Guards and a little flat-bottomed sphere with a cone-like arrow on its head that marked the prisoner.

“The collection group was sent to Westfall and they arrived as expected. They reclaimed the prisoner, scouted the route ahead, and moved forward. They were ambushed here.” Anduin watched with a furrowed brow as Lord Arnold Covington, one of Stormwind’s Starred Commanders, a General and current head of the Home Guard, pointed to the Jangolode Mines. “Just outside the mines. A force emerged from within them, between fifty-five and sixty people armed to the teeth with weapons and explosives. Four of the five Royal Guards were killed and nearly half of my men were killed or severely injured. No one was left unscathed. The least injured Warden and his horse was sent for help from Westbrook Garrison and they arrived in time to save what was left of the group.”

“What are the names of those killed?” Anduin asked, and had to clench his jaw when he recognized one of the names. Narissa, an ex Sea Wolf with whom Luciana had had a good relationship. “Am I to assume that you’ve already sent for their retrieval?”

“Yes, Your Highness. They’ll be preserved and flown back to Stormwind for a proper burial.”

“Good.” He nodded, breathed slowly, trying to straighten out his jumbled thoughts. “And what about the prisoner?”

“Gone, Your Highness. Reports say that the attackers attempted to kill the prisoner but in the scuffle, they disappeared. SI:7 investigators are on their way by gryphon to the site of the attack to see what happened.”

“Track them down,” Anduin said. “Bring them to Stormwind. It’s doubly important now that we know they’re marked for death, likely by the people who sent them to try and assassinate the Princess in the first place.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” General Covington saluted and Anduin waited, masking his growing impatience while the General handed down orders to various people. As the room emptied out, Wrathion cleared his throat and Anduin didn’t look at him.

“What?” Anduin snapped. He exhaled slowly. He knew that he was uncharacteristically impatient, but Luciana’s safety had him worried. “Have you heard something?”

“By your will, I keep an ear out for interesting rumours,” Wrathion said in a tone and rhythm that was quite different from his normal speech patterns, keeping the illusion of being Marcellus the assistant. It was still odd for Anduin, who was used to hearing his usual voice in the privacy of his chambers where even the wallcrawlers knew to be careful about eavesdropping. “I do hear that there are groups interested in exacerbating the... tense political clime in Westfall.”

Anduin turned his head slightly to acknowledge that he was listening, but didn’t actually deign to look at Wrathion, as Marcellus the assistant was merely that - an assistant, not someone who should be keeping a steady gaze with the once and future King. That was, he reasoned, why he didn’t want to look at Wrathion. It had nothing to do with the odd look he kept giving Anduin with those too-bright eyes.

“Their interest lies in power, chiefly,” Wrathion continued. “The power of taking the newly enriched lands and the people who still regard Stormwind with a bitter gaze out from under your House.”

“What about the Prime Minister?” Anduin asked.

“I haven’t heard much of her. It seems Stormwind is the bigger target.”

Anduin sighed. “General, send for Shaw. I need to speak with him directly. Moonbrook can’t be allowed to fester anymore and the Princess has already had one attempt, albeit a weak one, on her life. This will not continue.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” the General said, nodding deferentially. “With all respect, was it not the Princess’ intent to allow Westfall to naturally change its inclinations?”

“We can’t wait for that.” Anduin shook his head, and looked up at the Starred General, frowning at the question to his orders. He wasn’t _that_ out of it, was he? That had been a perfectly reasonable order.

But the General was an old man, well into his sixty-fith year. His skin was wrinkled and thick from years of abuse and too much sun, and his left eye was unnaturally blue - the colour of a magically reconstructed eye. It could be that he simply needed clarification? Though he was a General who’d served Varian well. It didn’t make sense. Anduin’s brow furrowed again, and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Westfall is a powder keg waiting for a trigger,” he said slowly. “If we let it sit, by the time the Coronation comes around we’ll be dealing with an attack on a much larger scale. Whoever is riling up Westfall needs to be taken out now, before there’s another rebellion.” That seemed like the reason for his orders. Wasn’t it? By the Light, he needed a good night’s sleep.

“Understood. I will take care of it. By your leave?”

“Dismissed.”

The room was left empty save for Anduin and Wrathion, and Anduin sighed heavily and reached up to rub at his forehead. He had a headache again.

“I have names,” Wrathion murmured, coming to stand right at Anduin’s side so that he would be heard. “People of interest. The likelihood of them actually being involved is very low but it might be worth it.”

Anduin looked at him briefly, brows furrowing. “You’re actually volunteering the information? Normally you’d make it difficult, just out of principle. Like pulling dragon teeth.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow delicately at Anduin’s choice of expression. “We do tend to struggle,” he said. “And you _have_ been sheltering me.”

“True,” Anduin said. That sounded reasonable. “Write them down for me, then.” Anduin gestured to the desk off to the side, and Wrathion nodded somewhere in his foggy peripheral vision. “Where did the prisoner go?” Anduin murmured. “Did Luciana know this would happen?”

“She’s got that rogue in her Guard, doesn’t she?” Wrathion asked. “Lars Abelen. The guerilla who hid out in Redridge for a time while Luciana was missing. He’s probably paranoid enough to suspect an ambush.”

“Yes, he would,” Anduin said. He looked at the map of Westfall, considering. “Where could he go with the prisoner?” His eyes wandered east. Luciana’s future Seneschal had come from Redridge, he recalled briefly, though it had little to do with the current situation. “Wrathion, when you’re finished, head to the gryphon roost. Send a rider to Westbrook Garrison, and one to Raven Hill, to ask about Lucy’s man.”

“I’ll go now,” Wrathion said, handing Anduin a piece of paper folded in half. “Be careful with this, Prince,” Wrathion warned quietly. “If they truly are involved, they won’t take kindly to being exposed. They tend to whisper, rather than shout, for a very good reason.”

“I know. Thank you,” Anduin said softly. “Get going. I don’t think there’s much time to work with.”

“I’ll be quick. See if you can rent Damran. It would be safest, I think, to use someone like them.”

Wrathion disappeared and Anduin was left alone in the Home Guard’s Head Office. The map of his kingdom lay before him, spread out with details written in flowing script. He wet his lips absently, and ran his finger along the line of Redridge’s northern border, down the line of the coast to the Swamp of Sorrows. He could hear his heartbeat, faintly, in the silence of the great room.

“You’re not staying out there,” he murmured, gaze returning to Westfall. “I’m recalling you. Once was too much, but it was a teenager and you handled it. Twice is the limit. Sixty...” He found the Gold Coast Quarry and imagined tiny little caravan wagons lined up behind it, with a tiny little armored Luciana at the head. “Not even you could handle that.” He had to recall her. It was the only option. He couldn’t even think of other possibilities. 

He looked up at the unmarked map of Azeroth on the far wall. The continents were left bare of border markings, meant to remind those that gazed upon the map that borders were, in the end, only lines drawn on maps. Easily torn, and easily redrawn. Conquered or lost.

“I’m recalling you,” he murmured. “Commander in Chief, return to Stormwind.”

He turned and strode purposefully from the room, leaving a Royal Guard to lock the door behind him to secure the sensitive documents inside.

“Get me a Courier,” he called as he walked.

“Where will they find you?” a Royal Guard asked, breaking the line to hurry after Anduin. The others moved to cover the hole.

“The courtyard. Now.”

“Your Highness.” The guard turned away and down a hall to the War Room and Anduin’s steps didn’t falter until he reached the courtyard. There were some people there, a handful of young noble girls. It sounded like they were catching up with each other and gossiping. Anduin wished he could appreciate that there was some friendship between young Nobles, but his mood had soured again. When they saw him, not quite a thundercloud like his Father would be but still clearly displeased, they hurried out of the courtyard and into the adjacent library wing. Anduin regretted, mildly, ruining their walk through the green space of the Keep, but he brushed it off. Luciana’s safety was more important.

“Sir, you called for a Courier?” Anduin turned to see a pretty woman built like a whip in standard Stormwind soldier’s regalia. She snapped off a smart salute. “Army Courier Amy Black, awaiting orders.” 

“I’m giving the order to recall Princess Luciana from Westfall,” Anduin said. “I’m putting Lawrence Burns in charge of continuing her work with the caravan.” Why Burns? He was a clerk, wasn’t he? He knew how to do this sort of thing. “Only the Princess and a handful of her chosen guards will return to Stormwind. Work quickly and quietly,” Anduin said, a warning in his voice. He was not a warrior like his father. His anger, when provoked, was cold. He was not to be taken lightly. “If the Princess protests, let her know that if she has not returned to Stormwind in reasonable time I will collect her myself.”

“Yes, Sir,” Courier Black said. “Any other orders, Sir?”

“I will let the King know of my recall. I don’t want too many people involved. Dismissed.”

When he was alone again, he clasped his hands behind his back and turned away from the door to the library. The view from the courtyard was a beautiful one. It overlooked the waterfall leading to Olivia’s pond, the small lake within Stormwind’s wall. He could see the Tushui compound and the dragon turtles they bred there, the hot air balloon that floated above them. Stormwind’s fragment of Deathwing’s jaw hung in the distance, still burning with unnatural heat. The ring of portals glowed with power and even from such a distance, Anduin could sense the hum of arcane magic.

“This is my choice,” Anduin said quietly. He felt more as though he were trying to convince himself. But he _knew_ that this was the right choice. “If you’re angry, so be it. If I’m to be in charge of this kingdom, its military, then until you pass the title on to someone else you will be under my command while out on the orders of the House of Wrynn.” He raised his chin. Luciana would not be happy he’d pulled her out. She would say, _I can handle it. This is something we need to do ourselves, to show our sincerity._

But Anduin had made a decision. It wasn’t worth risking Luciana’s safety. This time, it was a prisoner who had been taken. Next time, it could be her. Once was too much. Twice would never happen.


	60. Leaving Westfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting such wicked ideas. If Luciana were real she'd kill me and eat my heart in vengeance.

There was a clear space that had been cut around Luciana’s tent. No one dared to approach it save for her personal guard, not after she’d sent the Courier running out with a wide-eyed look of fear on her face. The Courier had departed, her gryphon carrying her away on swift winds, and the center of the camp had fallen into a tense silence for almost a full hour.

Then Luciana had stormed from her tent, through the camp to find her clerk.

“Lawrence,” she growled, and he pulled away from what he’d been working on with the other clerks to follow her. No one followed them, not when she was in such a foul temper.

“What is it?” he asked quietly when they were in the privacy of her tent.

“Anduin recalled me,” she bit. “You’re in charge of finishing the caravan route. I’m leaving you everyone but Niall, Thane, Lureith, Nhenas, and Burt. I’ll write out an outline of what I’ve done so far and what I want done.”

“Alright,” Lawrence said solemnly, nodding. “I’ll get it done. Do you know when Lars is coming back?” he asked. “I assume you sent him out, since he wouldn’t leave you alone otherwise.”

“It won’t be long,” she said. “I imagine he’s found something to do.” Lars hadn’t alerted her to anything, and it was unlike him to disappear. Still, she wasn’t worried. She knew him. He would come back to her. She could throw him away like a bag of trash and he’d still come back.

Lawrence nodded again, and hesitantly reached out to put a hand on her armoured upper arm. “Princess,” he said quietly. “Be careful.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m not leaving until we’ve passed Moonbrook.”

“We’re not stopping there, I hope.”

“Of course not.” She grimaced. “Though I wish it wasn’t necessary, we’ll need to bypass them until this issue can be taken care of.”

“That won’t look very good.”

“I know, but I won’t risk my entire caravan until it’s calmed. You don’t drive a ship through a storm.”

She left Lawrence to return to his work, slipping back to her tent. Her anger had cooled quickly after the initial indignation had struck. When Courier Black had told her that the Prince was recalling her from Westfall, she’d rankled at the apparent insult. She’d gruffly taken the command and dismissed the messenger, who’d been glad to be free of the suddenly oppressive aura filing the tent.

Then, Luciana had snarled and thrown over her table, scattering various important things to the ground. Did he think her incapable? Did he not realize that they’d _expected_ things like this to happen? That assassins, even the teenage variety, were not some insurmountable obstacle when you were the berserker-Queen of Stormwind, the Scion of Goldrinn, the Oathkeeper? When you were Scarjaw, respected and feared amongst your enemies, protector of the kingdom and commander of its armies? She’d smashed her chair and broken the desk in a fit of roiling, frenetic energy before regaining control of her fury.

Then, Luciana had started to calm. Past the burn, she realized - he was right to recall her. It galled her to abandon her work halfway through, but she realized he was right to end her direct involvement in it. And, hadn’t she agreed to return if it became too overtly dangerous for her to remain in Westfall?

“Fucking fel,” she swore softly, staring at her upended , shattered desk. “I hate it when you’re right. Well, that’s not true. I hate it when I have to abandon a mission. This is _my_ work. I should be allowed to finish it.”

She turned away from her desk. She’d fix it later. She sat heavily in the remaining chair, and leaned back into it and sighed heavily.

“My work,” she repeated softly. “But it’s not just me anymore, is it.” She sighed heavily, rubbing her face roughly with a scarred hand. “Chain of command. Right. Leave it to those suited for it, and do the things only you can do.” She looked up to the bare wall of her tent. “You can wait one more day,” she said. “I need to wrap up and show Lawrence where to go. Then I’ll leave.”

She slept uneasily, even with the weight of Shauna on her chest, and left the promised provisions with the Surveyor’s Team. She gave Isendir authority over volunteers so that if any new adventurers joined them, he would be able to properly direct them. Then she drove the caravan further down the southern road, slow and steady with a brewing thundercloud over her head.

Thankfully there was a long road between the highway and Moonbrook. It took the caravan over two days, nearly three, to make the trek, even when Luciana ordered a faster pace. Westfall’s upper half was originally much more closely packed, each farm nearly attached despite the sprawling wideness of the land. But even in the past, there had been a separation between the north and south of the province, and the great expanse between them was even more apparent after most of the farmsteads had fallen to ruin, returning to the soil.

The caravan didn’t have to pass too close to the town as the road to Moonbrook from the highway was a long one. Luciana was notified that people had started to gather in the distance to watch the procession. Her people would be just barely visible over the horizon, but she knew it would only exacerbate the bitterness brewing in Moonbrook to see the rich caravan pass by without a glance. The scout who had reported to her spoke quietly, wary of her sudden sour mood, and Luciana acknowledged it with a nod and waved him away.

Luciana sighed, and held up her right fist to give the order to stop. “Cut off a carriage,” she ordered. “Half full with hens with two roosters, the rest full with goats, same ratio. Add some feed for the hens.”

The carriage was left unattended, and Lawrence caught up to her when the march restarted. “What’re we doing that for?” he asked. “I thought we were skipping Moonbrook. Too iffy.”

“These are still people, Lawrence,” she replied, staring straight ahead. She knew she still wore a storm on her face and it wasn’t directed at Lawrence. “We can’t leave them with nothing. The majority are probably innocent civilians, caught up in something nasty. We can’t let them starve while we try to figure it out.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not questioning you,” he said. “It just seems counterintuitive. By feeding the civilians you’re also feeding the bad guys.”

“I know,” she said. “Leave it be.”

“Okay.” Lawrence shrugged it off, and returned to his spot by the front carriage.

While the caravan proceeded, slowly because of its sheer size, Luciana had her chosen party gathered. Five adventurers, one healer and one tank with three damage dealers, would accompany her on her returned to Stormwind. They didn’t immediately gather to her, as her departure would be abrupt and unexpected to avoid unwanted followers. 

Lawrence would clear up any confusion caused a day later, when they’d had ample time to pull head of any potential pursuers. It was the same reason they’d go by land. Gryphons were too noticeable, too easy to pick out from the night sky. Ground mounts would travel over land, behind newly grown trees and around foothills that would hide them from any eyes that might have followed them.

They weren’t able to reach the Dust Plains by nightfall, but they were close enough that camp was set up with swollen guard rotations. Gnoll activity had boomed in the last few years in the area and Luciana didn’t want to chance any nasty surprises.

She invited Lawrence into the command tent and showed him what she’d drawn up to guide him through the rest of the tour of Westfall. “We’re not here to gain favour,” she told him. “We’re here to continue the process of redistributing Stormwind’s wealth fairly among its people. Westfall suffered and they’re not going to forgive Stormwind for a while yet, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore them.”

“Understood,” Lawrence said, eyes on her heavily marked map. “I’ll get it done.”

“I know.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Give us until mid morning. We’ll be using ground mounts, so we’ll need the extra time.”

“Alright.”

Luciana spent the first few hours of the night in her tent, wasting precious time. She distracted herself by going over the inventory and editing the counts for what was left behind for Moonbrook, writing in that it was her decision rather than Lawrence’s. Then she played lightly with Shauna, not wanting to exhaust the terrier before the long night ahead.

“I feel like a child,” she grumbled while she scratched Shauna’s neck. “He grounded me.”

Lawrence chuckled from his newly acquired position at the repaired command table. “He was right to, Princess,” he said. “He just wants to keep you safe. He’s doing this for a good reason,” he said emphatically.

“That’s what parents say. I would know.”

Lawrence chuckled again, but she let him concentrate on acquainting himself with the work to be done. Merely the logistics of handling such a long caravan would be complex, but Lawrence was already experienced in such things from his time in Duskwood.

When Luciana heard the noise of the camp shift, she abruptly stood, disturbing Shauna’s place in her lap. “C’mon, pup,” she said, patting her thigh. Her gauntlet clanged against her cuisse. “Let’s go eat before we get going.”

“Be careful out there, Princess,” Lawrence said as she left.

“Be careful out here,” she replied over her shoulder. “Be good.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She snorted, and let the tent flap close behind her.

Shauna trotted after her to the fire pits, where Luciana could feed her dog and herself at the same time. “Let’s get something for her,” Luciana said to one of the cooks, looking down at Shauna. The dog’s tail wagged slowly as she looked around, craning her neck and sniffing the air.

“Alright,” the cook laughed before procuring a piece of a wild boar’s leg, bone and all. “What about you, Princess?”

“I’ll have whatever’s being passed around.”

“Warrior’s cut!” the cook called, and soon Luciana had her dinner, double portion, in front of her.

She returned to her tent as she normally would, catching Lureith’s gaze as she passed. Luciana nodded once, and Lureith returned it before turning to speak in undertones with her brother. Luciana heard the murmured Darnassian, but wasn’t able to determine what they were saying. Their words flowed too quickly for her basic understand of the language.

Luciana ate quickly, and waited until she knew the caravan’s entire camp would be occupied in settling down for the night. People would gather around the fires, or at their tents, and be effectively distracted enough for her and five others to depart unseen.

She joined up with the five adventurers on the outer edge of the camp, hidden by two of the larger barracks tents. “Princess,” Niall greeted. “We were told to gather here to meet with you?”

“Yes,” she said, not looking at them. She was searching the horizon, the land, and the sky above them with sharp eyes. “I’ve been recalled suddenly to Stormwind and I don’t need too many questions being asked. You five are here to accompany me on my return.”

“Are we leaving now?” Lureith asked, her voice familiar and smooth.

“Yes. Do any of you not have summoning stones for your mounts?” she asked, and as a response, the five adventurers summoned the mounts they’d rode into Westfall. Two sabers, a curly-horned ram, and a horse joined the party. Luciana looked at Burt, who gave her a fang-filled grin before falling down onto all fours.

“I think I can keep up,” he said laughingly, his voice a growl even when it wasn’t.

“Good. Don’t exhaust yourself.” Luciana turned and clicked her tongue, and Thunderer came out from behind the nearby tent. Shauna was at his heels. “Like I said, we’re leaving now. I have minimal provisions. We won’t stop until we’re out of Westfall and we’ll break at Raven Hill. We’ll move through Duskwood, straight north from there to Westbrook Garrison. I trust you can all hold your own against the creatures in Duskwood?”

There were varying nods and words of agreement, and Luciana turned to swiftly pull herself into the saddle. “Is this to do with the attack earlier?” Burt asked.

“It’s to do with a number of things,” Luciana replied. “Like I said, I was recalled. So close to a coronation, it’s to be expected,” she offered as an alternative reason. “Lawrence Burns will finish the caravan’s route while we return to Elwynn. Do any of you need to fetch something before we go?”

“No, Princess,” Lureith said, and Luciana looked at her.

“Let’s then go,” Luciana said. “Lureith, take the right. Thane, you’re point. Burt, center with me. Nhenas, you’re keeping up the rear. Niall, other side.”

The group quickly arranged itself. Shauna hesitantly sniffed at Burt, as he was close to the ground and available, and when he sniffed her right back her tail wagged.

“Shauna, hup,” Luciana said, and they were off. Luciana set the pace at a canter and the group spread out to give the mounts room.

It was easy to think about what she was leaving behind while Luciana was riding Thunderer, who needed only the barest of instructions to get where he needed to be going. It was easy to become agitated again at the thought of being recalled. _Recalled_. That’s what happened to incompetent Knights and corrupt commanders. She had to remind herself that she was neither of those things. She had to remind herself, several times, that she would be Queen in August, and to recall the Queen was only to acknowledge that she was too valuable to risk in dangerous situations. 

It still made her hackles raise. She thought of Anduin, sitting in his office, perhaps with Wrathion there for company - or to keep him out of trouble. She knew Anduin would worry after her, especially after she’d been attacked by a mind-controlled child.

It helped a little to ease her quickly fouling mood. The ride helped too, as riding Thunderer was always freeing to her. He was a powerful war horse, willful and strong. The miles disappeared under his hooves.

They passed over the bridge to Duskwood without any major difficulties. Thane’s ram gave him some trouble at the wooden bridge at the river crossing, and Luciana urged Thunderer up behind the ram, forcing it forward. After its cleft hooves found solid ground again it was fine, and they went on to find Raven Hill.

When the hamlet was in sight, Luciana half-turned Thunderer to watch the path they’d left. She hadn’t felt any danger, but it was possible that she’d been fooled, perhaps with magic. It wouldn’t have been the first time. And she knew that magic was heavily involved in the current state of affairs in Westfall.

“Everythin’ alright?” Thane asked, rolling the words with the typical Ironforge brogue. He’d waited for her, unwilling to leave her completely alone. Niall was with him. Luciana recalled that the two were guild mates.

“Fine,” Luciana replied, eyes on the woods. “Doesn’t look like we were followed, but...”

“I’ll let the watchers in town know to keep an eye out,” Niall offered.

“Do that,” Luciana said. “And stick together. We’ll be leaving after a short rest.” She looked east. The sun was already rising. “We’ll continue east when the sun’s up, out of our eyes. We should be able to reach Yorgen by sundown.”

“Thought we were goin’ North?” Thane asked.

“That was in case someone was listening,” Luciana replied quietly.

“Aye, then,” Thane said gruffly. “Should I have a message sent to Stormwind?”

“No. They’ll know in a few hours that we’re on the move. Best to minimize any chances of being spied on.” She sniffed the air, smelling a variety of familiar things. The sour smell of undeath tainted it, and she frowned, her nose crinkling in an obvious sign of her displeasure, unseen from behind her helm. She turned Thunderer towards the stables, one of the largest buildings in the hamlet. “It’d be best to give our mounts a break, too. Don’t use your summoning stones. They’ll be fine here.”

“Aye,” Thane said again.

“I’ll let the others know the plan,” Niall offered. With Luciana’s nod, a clear dismissal, he turned away.


	61. Followed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Just wish I was.

Luciana did not rest easy, as the room she’d taken had thin curtains that let the sun peek through. Not enough to hurt her eyes, but enough to irritate her. But, she’d gone far longer without proper rest, and didn’t let it bother her too much.

Some of the others didn’t fare quite as well. Lureith and Nhenas were naturally nocturnal, being kaldorei, but both were warriors and handled it as well as Luciana expected. Lureith had a hard look on her face, not quite anger but definitely irritation. Luciana knew they’d handled worse conditions. Their plight was made easier by Duskwood’s perpetual gloom, the great trees blotting out most of the offensive sunlight.

Thane and Niall suffered for the improper, short rest, but a bit of food and hot tea had them on their feet. Dwarves were a hardy race, and both were adventurers. They could handle a bit of tiredness. It wasn’t true exhaustion, and Luciana would be sure to let them rest before it became such.

“East, then, Princess?” Niall asked, adjusting the tack on his horse.

“Yes. We’ll stop at the Yorgen farmstead for a proper rest. No one could follow us that far without being seen.”

“Or getting caught by ogres,” Nhenas added.

“There is that,” Lureith agreed with a small smile and a nod. “Even a professional would not want to tangle with their kind in their own mound.”

“That’s what I’m banking on,” Luciana greed. “First, though, there’s some business to take care of. I’ll need three of you. Burt, Lureith, Niall.” Niall left his horse with Thane, a curious look on his face as he rejoined Luciana and the other two she’d called.

Luciana gave each of them brief instructions in a quiet voice. She ignored the questions worn plainly on their faces. Either they’d figure it out themselves or, if she was patient enough, she’d explain to one of them while they made their way east.

Lureith was sent to find the innkeeper, and she spoke briefly to him while giving him some compensation for housing them for the morning. We’re going north, cutting up through the banks to shorten our travel time.

Burt found the stable master and engaged in as friendly a chat as two worgen could manage. He was ostensibly there to thank him for taking care of their mounts, however briefly, and to also compensate him for his efforts. We’re moving south to Stranglethorn. There’s a mess to be sorted out.

Niall went to the Lieutenant in charge of Raven Hill’s defenses. He heard a straightforward story as Niall inquired on Luciana’s behalf as to the state of the cemetery. The undead were still well contained within the wards, and the warders themselves were well taken care of in return. We’ll be moving east on the lookout for ogres.

Only one tale was true, and even then, only partially. They’d get mixed up in the coming days. More than likely they’d get mixed up in the coming hours. Because she was a Princess, the chatter would start immediately. It probably already had. The rumours would fly and get mixed together in odd ways and whoever might have followed them would have a difficult time of it. It wouldn’t stop them completely but it would give Luciana’s party ample time to reach Darkshire. There, she knew they would be safe. Not only was the town full of guards and death knights she’d put there herself, it was thickly populated and used to adventurers. Any newcomers would be noted and probably harried with questions.

Thinking like Lars had its advantages, Luciana thought to herself, smiling privately. Briefly she wondered where he might have gone. It was unusual for him to not report to her. Still, she refused to worry about it just yet. Her words to Lawrence had rung true - Lars had probably found something that needed to be done, and Luciana trusted him.

She waited while the three she’d sent out rejoined her group and mounted wordlessly. Thunderer tossed his head in impatience. She patted his neck briefly and then gestured to the five that accompanied her.

She set the pace again, this time at a trot. Once they were a fair distance from Raven Hill, preferably well into the tree line and out of sight of the Westfall border, they would slow. They’d made good time last night and while they and their mounts had paid the price for it with lasting exhaustion and little rest, it gave them an easier day today.

“Princess,” Niall said when they slowed. “If you don’t mind, could I inquire to the state of affairs in Draenor?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Luciana replied conversationally. “It’s good to see some concern for our operations there, even though the war itself has ended. Lunarfall is still strong. I believe Commander Celia will leave it to the locals of Draenor under the command of whomever she and Exarch Yrel believe is qualified.”

“Why not stay?” Niall asked. “She must be highly respected there now, by whatever factions she’s worked with, and she’s been there for years. She must be well used to Draenor.”

“She is,” Luciana agreed. “But her skills will be needed elsewhere. She’s a Starred Commander now, with experience and connections. Draenor needs to be stabilized but Azeroth is our primary concern.” Luciana glanced over at Niall, smiling with half a mouth. “We’re not dragging her back by the ankle,” Luciana teased. “But after we’re done dismantling what’s left of the Iron Horde and ensuring that the orcish clans won’t try this again, she’ll likely be wanting to return to Azeroth. In that case, Lunarfall will be left in good hands, and so will its people.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Niall nodded. “Do you know how much longer we’ll be on Draenor?”

“I think we’ll be staying there a long time,” Luciana replied. “We need to ensure that the remnants of the Iron Horde don’t try to rebuild. We still need to clear out Tanaan and the Legion’s presence in the other areas, and try to track down Gul’dan. I believe Archmage Khadgar is taking care of that, but as always, Stormwind will lend her strength to the defense of Azeroth.”

“I heard Archimonde killed him with his dyin’ breath,” Thane said.

“Official reports from those present say that Archimonde sent Gul’dan through a destabilizing portal,” Luciana said. “We’re not sure where. As I said, the Archmage has that in hand. Our responsibilities lay more with the Iron Horde itself. Its battlements need to be dismantled and those supplies redistributed in Azeroth to replace what was lost.”

“How do we know the Horde here won’t try to take more than what’s theirs?” Burt asked.

“As they do,” Nhenas’ low voice murmured from the side.

“You’re right to worry,” Luciana said. “But don’t worry too much. We know what we’ll be doing for at least the next few years.” She laughed. It was a dry, derisive chuckle that no one returned. “I’m going to be very busy,” she said, letting her face fall into a mild scowl. “And all of these concerns will be addressed and taken care of.”

The conversation halted for a brief, somewhat awkward moment. “What about her followers?” Burt asked, interrupting the silence. He’d straightened up to walk on two feet, and Luciana only had to look down slightly to see him. He kept a good few yards between him and her massive warhorse.

“Some of them, I imagine, will remain,” Luciana replied. “Most will disperse, but they’ll remember her and they’ll probably keep to the direction she chose. Some might follow her back here.”

“I heard she picked up a few orcs,” Burt said. “What’ll we do with them?”

Luciana shrugged. “It remains to be seen. It’s nothing we can’t handle, I assure you,” she said.

“Of course,” Burt said, his right ear twitching back to listen to something at their rear. “Just thinkin’, though, that if she’s got some people she’d used to commanding, she could...” Both ears swivelled widely and he stopped, turning his head with his ears perked forward. His nose worked and he raised it to scent the breeze.

Luciana only had to tug the reins gently and Thunderer stopped with an indignant snort. She hadn’t let him run yet. The others stopped with her, closing their formation to form a tight circle around her and Burt, their only healer.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Dunno.” Burt’s reply was clipped and his ears swivelled again as he tried to find the sound he’d lost. Luciana centered herself and let her senses range out. She didn’t smell something out of the ordinary for Duskwood. The sour scent of the plague, ever present in the underbelly of the breeze, the musk of ogres from the nearby mound, bears and wolves, giant spiders and owls, human, feral worgen and their sane counterparts, horses and sabers and a ram from her own party... She turned to peer into the dark trees where Burt was staring.

 _Goldrinn,_ she thought, unsure if it would work. _Lend me your eyes and ears for a moment._

The trees stood out in sharp definition even in the perpetual dusk of Stormwind’s southern forests. She could, the longer she looked, see further and further into the woods. They were no longer a dark mass behind a thin line of trees, but individual saplings and towering, twisted behemoths.

Luciana let Thunderer wander forward slowly. The horse’s ears pricked and he snorted. He nearly trembled under Luciana. Normally when her party fell silent, pulling in tight around her, it meant there was a battle coming.

“Hold on,” Burt snarled, and then, “Someone’s followed us.”

“Who could have?” Nhenas asked from behind Luciana. “We left in darkness and were cautious.”

“We moved too fast and too suddenly for it,” Lureith agreed, but she still drew her sword from its sheath with the familiar bright hum of steel.

Nhenas copied her and Niall’s form shimmered briefly before fading into a liquid shadow. His horse didn’t react, likely used to carrying his Shadowform. Only a bright point of concentrated shadow magic at his forehead differentiated him from the shadows of the woods behind him. To Luciana’s eyes, though, his form was as easily seen as her own hand.

Thane’s boots clicked as he freed them from the stirrups on his battle-hardened ram, readying himself to leap from its back and into battle. As Burt retreated back into the safety of the group, Thane pulled his shield from his back. It rested easily on his arm, accompanied by a heavy axe built for a dwarf’s height and strength.

Luciana held her right hand up in a fist. The order to hold. “Wait for my order,” she said quietly. “It could be one of mine.” Attacking him would be a poor way to welcome Lars back into her company.

“Could be an ambush,” Thane suggested. His voice rumbled in Luciana’s ear and she shook her head sharply, to dispel the sound as much as the idea.

“No,” she said. “It’s not an ambush.”

“Then what is it?” Niall asked. “Burt?”

Burt growled in his throat, like a worg, and fell into a sort of half-crouch that took advantage of the strength of his legs. It was a position the worgen used in preparation to leap. 

“Hold,” Luciana said lowly, warningly.

Burt’s paw-like hands flexed, his claws gleaming threateningly. “I don’t like this,” he said.

Luciana turned her gaze back to the forest. Her eyes flickered between masses of shadow, and she inhaled slowly, trying to pick up the scent of whatever it was that had alerted Burt. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but perhaps that was in itself a threat. Humans occupied Duskwood in large numbers, and if a hunter had passed through earlier their scent would linger. If a group of humans had pursued them, Luciana wouldn’t be able to easily pick the scents apart from the other.

“Lureith, Nhenas,” Luciana said. “Scout out the forest around us. Burt, stay near me and Niall. Thane.”

“Aye.”

“Get ready to charge. On my order,” she reminded.

“Aye, Princess.”

She looked into the forest, and forced herself to wait for the night elven siblings to return. Thunderer tossed his head a few times and she loosened the reins, letting him turn his head fully to observe the woods around him. The horse’s thick, powerful neck arched regally as he tried to find the source of Luciana’s tension.

“Easy,” she murmured, leaning forward over his neck to rub behind his ear. There was only a sliver of space between it and his armor, but she stroked it slowly with one armoured fingertip. “Easy now, big boy.” 

Thunderer blew air out of his nose and looked the other way. Luciana leaned back in her saddle, resting her left hand on Oathkeeper’s pommel. It wasn’t her dominant hand, but she was used to wielding a sword with either and it would be a quicker draw on horseback if she didn’t try to sling her blade over her horse’s head.

Lureith slipped from the shadows first. For a few seconds all that was visible of her was her softly glowing eyes, and then she approached her party on the road and Burt called out to her.

“Lureith, see anything?” he asked as she rejoined them.

“No,” she said slowly, reaching up to pat her nightsaber’s head. It sniffed her hand before rubbing its massive cheek across her chest guard. “There is no evidence of a large party in these woods.”

Nhenas emerged before she could continue, one of his twin swords in hand, the other still sheathed. “I have not found anything,” he said. “But I am no hunter.”

“Should I take a look?” Burt asked.

“No, you’re our only healer,” Luciana replied. “Thane, Nhenas, stay with Burt. Niall and Lureith, come with me. Bring your saber,” Luciana said to Lureith.

Luciana slipped from Thunderer’s back and he whinnied softly in confusion. They’d been close to battle, he felt, and to have Luciana dismount instead of charging him into the coming fray was unusual. She shushed him, pulled his head up with a hand under his jaw to kiss his velvet-like nose. There was only a small patch available, but she made do. “Quiet, Thunderer,” she murmured. “Stay with the others.”

Thunderer tossed his head out of her hand and snorted, but didn’t follow her, even when Lureith’ nightsaber padded by him. She waved the other two forward and on foot, they followed her into the woods.

“Is this the best idea?” Niall whispered.

“Probably not,” Luciana said. “But we need to know if we’re being followed.”

“I did not see any evidence of it,” Lureith said, hardly audible. “Any party large enough to contend with us would have left traces of their passing.”

“What if it’s not a party?” Niall countered. “What if it’s a spy? Or worse.” He frowned. “A lich. Are there any liches left in Duskwood?”

“I don’t believe so,” Luciana murmured. “Be quiet.”

Niall didn’t respond, only followed as Luciana quietly crept through the trees. Lureith was nearly silent beside her, familiar as she was with dark forests like those of her home in Teldrassil.

Luciana scented the air again, head up to take in whatever she could. Her helm was in the way but she wouldn’t remove it here. If she did, and something struck her and left a mark, Anduin wouldn’t be pleased with her recklessness. At the thought, she frowned. She was still upset that he’d recalled her, like some green Knight Lieutenant who’d bitten off more than she could chew. And she still knew that he’d only done it to protect her as though she were Queen.

“We’re being followed,” Niall whispered loudly. “I can sense them.”

“I cannot see or hear anything,” Lureith said. “Princess, can you hear them?”

Luciana held up her fist to order a halt, and they paused as one. She turned her head each way, and listened closely to the faint rustle of leaves. She heard some insect’s chattering, a bird flapping by in the air just above the trees.

“Yes,” she said. “I can feel their eyes.” She turned around, and growled lowly. “No threat, but they’re there.”

“So we’re being followed.” Niall grinned triumphantly at Lureith, who only frowned.

“You are,” a deep masculine voice replied, almost amused, and Luciana twisted around and brought Oathkeeper crashing down into the interlocked branches of two nearby trees. It was a loud and offensive noise, and Lureith’s nightsaber roared and leaped at where Luciana had just struck. But it wasn’t as quick to respond as Luciana was to move, and she was already barreling through the remains of the brush she’d cut through to reach the person who had spoken.

“Whoa there, easy!” he laughed, and Luciana snarled and swivelled. Her hand darted out and closed around somewhat that was too soft to be a tree branch and she yanked it forward. “Ow, hey!”

A large man came stumbling out of the brush and into Luciana, who was nearly knocked down in her surprise. He was a warrior, built thick and heavy. She could sense his fury, tamped down but too tight, roiling dangerously. He wore better gear than Mack, but it was still shoddy. She had her hand around his forearm, squeezing tightly enough to bruise, and she spun him around and brought his arm up, bending his shoulder back painfully as Lureith and Niall rejoined Luciana.

“Who are you?” Lureith demanded as she approached, the tip of her sword poised to stab through his neck. Niall stayed behind her, hands out in preparation to cast a mind-breaking spell.


	62. Carill Stark

Luciana had Oathkeeper up to the strange warrior’s throat. Lureith was close enough to strike, but she was wisely giving Luciana a bit of space. “Your name,” Luciana ordered.

“Carill.”

“You’re following us. Why?”

“I’m following you,” Carill corrected, turning his head to look at her. “Princess. You’re a warrior, ain’t ya?”

“I am,” she replied.

“Common knowledge,” Niall muttered from behind Lureith’s protective stance.

“Why are you following me?” Luciana asked, tightening her grip on his arm.

“Ow, hey, hey!” he laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “No need for that shit, Princess. You were in Westfall. Kinda disappointed you didn’t come up to Sentinel Hill. I heard you skipped us and I had to run all fucking night. That was a pain.”

Luciana’s gaze flicked to Lureith, who met it warily. Reading what was on Lureith’s face, Luciana eased her grip on Carill’s arm, but did not release him. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, a clear and angry warning in her voice.

“I followed you here because I wanted to ask you a couple of questions,” Carill replied. “Would ya let me go? I thought you Royals were all about polite fuckin’ conversation and all that dirt.”

“You’d best watch your tongue, Carill,” Niall warned.

“Or what, you’ll cut it out?” Carill joked. “I’d bite your hand off for trying.”

Luciana swept his feet out from under him and with a surprised yelp he tumbled face-down into the forest floor. She went down with him, one knee falling into his back. It produced a satisfyingly pained cry and she let the rest of her weight fall into her fist and when it struck the earth next to Carill’s face, it made the warrior still.

“Okay,” he said conversationally. “Great. So, Princess, you’re trying to say sorry to Westfall, right?”

“It’s not an apology,” she responded in the same sort of easy tone, but her presence and her weight bearing down on him betrayed it. “It’s a redistribution of wealth.”

“So, fancy apology. Great. And you’re gonna make sure Westfall gets what it’s owed, yeah?”

“Westfall belongs in the same place as Elwynn, or Redridge,” she said. “Not in the dust or the gutters. It should be plentiful and insulated against the worst of Azeroth’s attackers, just as my people are in Stormwind. It wasn’t, and we are changing that.”

“So, yeah,” Carill said. “Great. Well, I’ll come with you and make sure you hold up that end.”

Niall snorted and murmured another disparaging comment. “Great way to get trust. Stalk, and then ambush the Princess.”

Carill sighed, and turned his head, trying to look up at Luciana. “Can I get up?” he asked. “Seriously. One woman to another. My fucking arm hurts.”

Luciana stared down at Carill, blinked, and then looked up at Lureith. “What do you think?” she asked. “Is she being honest?”

“I don’t believe she can be trusted,” Lureith replied, her face still set in a combat-ready scowl. “But I do not believe she is lying. But she is not forthcoming, either.”

“Let me,” Niall suggested.

“Up we get,” Luciana said, rolling backward. As she shifted her weight to her feet, and pushed herself up to a standing position, she dragged Carill along with her. A moment later, they were both on their feet. “Don’t move too much,” she warned. “I might put my sword in an awkward place.” She rested Oathkeeper against the top of Carill’s breastplate, not against her throat but still close enough to slit it if necessary.

“Totally understood,” Carill said easily. “What, shadow priest, right?”

“Relax,” Niall soothed. He noticeably remained in his Shadowform, but he did come out from behind Lureith. He brought a hand up, close to Carill’s forehead. “What is your name?”

“I’m Carill. Stark, they call us. My family, that is, what it’s worth. Not much.” A pause. “Yeah. Carill Stark.”

“You’re a warrior?”

“Yeah, took a while to figure that one out. Ma didn’t like that. Said I ate too much. Slapped me for it every time.” She chuckled, as though reliving a fond memory. “I’m a warrior, though I don’t have much training. Formal training, anyway. I fought enough to figure it out from this old shit we had in town. Old man, no right arm, right crazy. We had to kill him ‘cause he kept attacking people and lettin’ the goat out.”

Niall’s Shadowform wavered slightly and Carill blinked suddenly, several times in quick succession. “She’s not lying,” Niall said. “I don’t see any deception, but it could be the same situation as the kid the other day. The one that attacked.”

“It’s possible,” Luciana said. “But I don’t feel that magic. Carill, have you been to Moonbrook recently?”

“Are you shitting crazy? That place’s fucked up. I’m not going anywhere near them.”

“That answers that,” Niall said, and backed away again to slip behind Lureith’s armoured form.

“Carill Stark, you want to join me to make sure I keep my promises to Westfall,” Luciana said.

“Yeah. Also, I figure you’ve probably got a lot of food,” Carill replied. “Good shit, too.” She tried to grin over her shoulder. “Gettin’ real tired of being hungry.”

Luciana sighed, and released Carill’s arm. She didn’t stumble away but she did take a wide step to the left, rotating her shoulder slowly.

“That hurt,” she said.

“That was the intention,” Luciana replied dryly. “What sort of warrior are you? Not a berserker. An arms master? Or a shield bearer?”

“Meat shield, I guess,” Carill replied. “Built like a bull. So it kinda seems that way. Haven’t really had many chances to test it out.”

“We’ll bring you to the Conclave,” Luciana said. “That’ll also let me see how far along you are in the essential skills. For now, if there’s any fighting, stay in the back with Niall.” She looked over at the shadow priest. She couldn’t quite see his eyes in his Shadowform, but she looked where they would be and saw him straighten his back when he noticed she was looking at him. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

“Alright,” Carill said easily. “So, where’re you going out of Westfall?” she asked.

“Stormwind. Through Darkshire. You don’t have a mount, right?” Luciana asked.

“I walk.” Carill grinned crookedly. “It does a body good,” she said in a mocking, singsong voice.

“Right.” Luciana sighed. “Let’s get back to the others. I’m surprised they didn’t come running when they heard...” Luciana trailed off. She slowly turned to face the direction they’d come from. She’d kept track of their whereabouts, and she faced north to where they’d left the others. It took effort but she concentrated, let the world around her fade off. “I don’t hear them,” she murmured. “Niall, scout ahead. Stay in your Shadowform. Lureith, my six. Carill, to my left. And be as quiet as you can. There might be trouble. Lureith, can you direct your saber to go with Niall?”

“He will not leave my side,” Lureith said, an apology in her voice.

“Have your saber follow beside you.”

“Yes.”

Carill, to Luciana’s mild surprise, remained quiet. She’d fallen into a more serious temper, knees bent slightly, hand forward to block an incoming strike, the other holding an old sword in a proper grip.

Luciana gestured and Niall slipped into the shadows of the forest, melding in with them nearly seamlessly. She gave him a moment to get ahead, and then started to move at a crawling pace through the woods. Carill matched her, and she could hear the wet sound of Lureith’s plated boots on the humus blanketing the ground.

At the edge of the tree line, Niall had stopped. Luciana came up behind him. She wasn’t quiet able to see over the rise to the road where they’d left the others. “Twelve enemies,” Niall whispered. “They’ve got Burt held down. Thane’s down, maybe poisoned, maybe sapped.”

“What of Nhenas?” Lureith asked, crouching at Luciana’s left. Her saber was beside her, its eyes glowing faintly, its great yellowed fangs gleaming. Luciana imagined the yellow was from years of bloodstains.

“I can’t see him.”

“Did they take him?” Luciana murmured. “Niall, how many can you take care of?”

“Two,” he said. “I can knock one out and sap another, but they’d notice that.”

“When I give the signal,” Luciana murmured, “Niall, take your two. Aim for the one holding Burt down, and the one off to the side, there.” She pointed with her free hand to the enemy that had wandered from the group, straying close to the edge of the woods.

“With the navy boots, by the trees?”

“Yes. Lureith,” Luciana said, motioning for the others to follow. She needed to get a better look at what they were dealing with. “There are two on the edge of the group,” she said, pointing. “When Niall takes his two, charge them. Make as much noise as you can. Carill, back her up. Take out as many as you can. Save one for questioning.”

“What about you?” Carill asked.

“I’m going to call Thunderer.”

“Who?”

“My war horse.” Luciana grinned ferally at Carill’s odd look. “He’s a Westbrook Warrior. He’s as much a warrior as you and I.”

“Oh.” Carill nodded sagely. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Luciana checked with Niall, who gave her a silent wave before turning to face his first target. Lureith nodded, and held her hand out for her saber. It bumped her hand with its nose, and she grinned, showing off sharply pointed canines.

“On my mark,” Luciana murmured. “... Mark.”

The enemy near the trees fell face first into the ground, and Lureith roared a challenge in Darnassian and charged up the incline. Carill followed behind, barreling into one of their first two targets like an angered forest bear. Luciana, with three quick bounds, was in the middle of the road, hands outstretched, Oathkeeper’s bare blade gleaming in the faint light. Niall’s second target was likely already down for the count.

“Thunderer!” she boomed. “Break them!” she ordered.

Thunderer screamed and slammed his head violently into the enemy to his left, one of two holding his reins. The man was sent flying into the woods, and Luciana heard him crash violently into the brush. Thunderer reared up and kicked at the second enemy, striking him despite his attempts to dodge the sudden attacks. He fell to Thunderer’s sharp hooves and was trampled under them.

Luciana, while Thunderer did his part, whirled around and struck the enemy she’d seen coming up beside her. Oathkeeper cut through his left leg easily and he fell screaming, and she quickly stabbed into his chest, dealing a killing blow. Another tried to come up behind her, and Luciana turned suddenly and lashed out with her fist, hitting the enemy’s left shoulder as they tried to dodge. Luciana roared, a grin overtaking her face. _This_ was what she’d wanted - something to vent her frustration and anger, before she returned to Anduin.

Before Luciana could bring Oathkeeper to bear, a bright spell hit the woman in the back and sent her sprawling in the dirt road. She lay unmoving, her arm at an odd angle, and Luciana looked up to see Burt with a furious snarl on his lupine face, forming another Wrath spell in his claws.

“Take care of Thane!” she ordered as he sent the spell flying into the knife wielder trying to gut Niall.

“Yeah, yeah!” Burt growled, but he turned to crouch down next to the prone dwarf, druidic healing magic forming around his claws.

Two of the remaining attackers tried to manoeuvre Luciana closer to the woods, and she laughed. “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “I don’t care. You’re going to die here.”

One threw herself at Luciana, who sidestepped and swung out a wide arc with her sword. The enemy - a rogue, Luciana guessed - rolled under it and sprung up, stabbing out with a knife aimed at the underside of Luciana’s chin. Luciana simply tilted her head down and to the left, letting the knife skid harmlessly against her blackrock face plating.

“Too slow,” Luciana mocked, her left hand darting out like a snake to wrap around the woman’s neck. Luciana lifted and squeezed tight, turned, and threw her into her partner who’d tried to flank Luciana.

An arrow thudded against Luciana’s back. If it weren’t for her armour, it would have pierced her lung. She snarled and turned to face the new threat, but Carill was already on them, burying her sword in their midsection. With a cry of pain, the attacker when down, and Carill kicked at their head with her heel. Luciana heard a wicked, wet crack echo against the trees.

The road was suddenly silent save for the desperate scrabbling of someone trying to escape. Luciana looked to the one she’d thrown. The person she’d hit was trying to scramble away with what looked like a broken leg, dragging it along behind as they limped away. Thunderer came up to meet them, his wide chest smashing into them and knocking them into the ground. With a loud whinny, Thunderer reared up and came back down, his hooves crushing the attacker.

“Thunderer,” Luciana called. “Come.” She held out her hand, and Thunderer shook his head, prancing over to her in victory. “Good,” she praised, fingers expertly finding the little spot under his chin he liked to have scratched. “Everyone alright?” she called.

“No one’s injured too bad,” Niall called back. “I’ve got a cut but I’m already healing it. Carill’s gonna have a bit of bruising. We caught them by surprise.”

“That was the point,” Luciana said. Lureith had one of her two first targets on his knees in front of her, her sword held before him in a show of threat and dominance. “Thane?”

“He’s comin’ to,” Burt growled. Indeed, Luciana could see Thane stirring.

“Good. Where’s Nhenas?”

“Took off,” Burt replied. “There were fourteen of these guys. Ambushed us. Two ran off in the scuffle with something off Thunderer’s back, and Nhenas is chasing ‘em down on his saber.”

“Shit,” Luciana snarled, turning and roughly yanking Thunderer forward. He protested and she snapped at him, literally snapping her teeth and growling. His ears flattened against his skull and he dropped his head down, taking a few steps forward like Luciana had demanded. She sheathed Oathkeeper at her hip and yanked her right gauntlet off, tossing it into the saddle. Her saddlebag wasn’t knotted like she’d left it, the thin mithril chain she’d used to bind it broken. The ends were frozen. One of those two must have been a mage, she thought, who’d used frost magic to make the mithril brittle and breakable. Or they had access to a specialized alchemist. Neither was good. As she thought she rifled through the contents of the saddlebag. She stilled, and drew her hand out of the bag.

“What is it?” Lureith asked.

“They took my dog tags,” Luciana said lowly. “Nothing else. Just to mock me. They took my dog tags.”

“Oh,” Burt said lowly, looking over at her. “That’s an insult. You’ll be wanting those back, I’d imagine?”

Luciana’s lips curled in a vicious snarl, and her nose crinkled and she bared her teeth. “No,” she ground. “They want me to chase them down for those tags. They want me to chase them like a wild fucking goose through this Light-fucked forest and waste my own fucking time and everyone else’s for something I don’t even need. For a soldier’s honour,” she said mockingly. “No. They don’t have any leashes to pull me with. We’ll wait here for Nhenas to return. Lureith, help Niall question the prisoner.”

Lureith looked down, and gave the prisoner an unfriendly smile. “My pleasure,” she said.

“I’ve done it before while on commission in the Borean Tundra,” Niall offered. “I know a few tricks.”

“Good. Let her open him up a bit for you,” Luciana said. “I hear that the pain will make it easier to get to where you need to go.”

“It does help,” Niall said. “Though it isn’t necessary. Just speeds things up a bit.” He approached Lureith at a leisurely pace, dropping his Shadowform. “If only there was some other way to speed it up...” he said, and sighed. “Well, no matter. We’d best get started.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” the prisoner said.

“You don’t need to speak. I’m just going to take a little peek,” Niall said. “You know, you attacked my Princess. I’m not very happy about that.”


	63. Short Rest at Yorgen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yorgen Worgen sounds like that hinga-dinga-durgan thing

They waited for Nhenas’ return, but the sun reached the horizon and Luciana grew impatient. “He’ll know where we’ve gone. Lureith, I know you’d like to see him safe first, but we need to keep moving.” Lureith wasn’t particularly happy about it and it showed in her face, but she knew better than to argue with Luciana. They kept moving.

The Yorgen farmstead was not as large or rich as it had once been, but it was welcoming enough to the Princess and her party. Luciana was set up in their small inn and she released the adventurers she’d dragged along for a few hours so they could rest or explore on their own terms. They deserved a break, she’d decided.

Carill, however, she kept with her. The rooms Luciana had been given for her brief stay at the farmstead were small but comfortable, and it didn’t take long to get a small fire crackling in the hearth. Without being prompted they brought her food and wine imported from Teldrassil, and she thanked them and dismissed them in the same breath.

“Go ahead,” Luciana said, gesturing to the food. Carill dug in ravenously as though it was her last meal.

“Y’aint hungry?” she asked in the middle of a pork pie.

Luciana simply looked at Carill, who shrugged and kept eating. “You mentioned your mother slapped you for eating too much,” Luciana said.

“Yeah. Didn’t like I was bein’ selfish.”

“You weren’t. We’re warriors,” Luciana said. “We’re not like the others. Our bodies move faster. We need more food, more water, to make up for it.”

“Not more sleep, though.”

“Because our bodies are always running on high,” Luciana explained. “We’re always ready to fight. It makes it difficult to sleep, or even to sit still for too long. We have the urge to always be doing something. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about,” she said, glancing at Carill. She tasted the wine, let it sit on her tongue for a moment. No poison. She swallowed. It was wet and sweet. She took another sip. “I’ll bring you to the Conclave in Stormwind, like I said. The warriors trainers can go in depth with what we know.”

“Alright,” Carill said easily.

“You prefer to be addressed with feminine pronouns, right?” Luciana asked.

“Yeah.”

Luciana nodded. “One of my old guards suggested I find a tank to replace her.”

“A what?”

“Tank. A shield bearer, who takes the hits so their healers and soldiers don’t.”

“Ah.”

“If you can get two of the warrior trainers in the Old Town to give you letter of recommendation, I’ll initiate you as a Queen’s Guard.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Oh, it will be.” Luciana grimaced, and sipped her wine. The wet sweetness built up on her teeth and it became unpleasant. She reached for a fried spider leg. It crunched between her teeth, dry and gamey. “You’ll need to train a lot. And hard. Only the best and the most loyal can join the Royal Guard and anyone in the Queen’s Guard has to undergo rigorous testing to make sure they meet those standards.”

“I can do that.”

Luciana looked over at Carill. She was roughly wiping her mouth with a napkin, the other hand reaching for the pitcher of water. She drank straight from it. Luciana sipped her wine. It was better with the spider leg. “I’ll believe it when I see it. And don’t get me wrong. I want to see it.”

Carill quirked an eyebrow as she picked up one of the spider legs. She gave it an odd look before taking an experimental bite. “Why’s that?”

“Westfall,” Luciana said. “I want to nurture whatever talents there are. If I can hold you up as an example of what kind of people are in Westfall, I can roll right over any complaints from my House of Nobles that we’re investing too much.”

“I can do that,” Carill nodded. “Just gimme a month or two.” Her voice rumbled pleasantly when it was low, quieter than it had been I the forest.

“That’s all you’ll have, I’m afraid,” Luciana said. “My coronation is in August.”

“Okay.”

Luciana fell silent, watching as Carill took her fill of the food. When she was done, Luciana ate what was left. It wasn’t quite enough to satisfy her, but she knew that the hunger was in large part a remnant from their fight earlier and it would last longer than the food in her stomach. It hadn’t been satisfying to her. She hadn’t even gotten a bruise.

“There will be exams, first,” Luciana said. “When we get to the city you’ll need to undergo tests to ensure you’re not under any hostile magic. It’ll go quickly. I want you with the trainers as soon as possible.”

“Alright.”

“Were you born in Westfall?”

“Nah, got dragged down from Elwynn. Ma said I was a bastard. Never sure if she meant the dickweed kind, or the fatherless kind.”

“Maybe both.”

Carill snorted a laugh. “Eh, doesn’t matter,” she shrugged.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Had a brother. Died of no food. Ma’s still kicking. She’s a little crazy, though.”

“When did you move to Sentinel Hill?”

“Sometime after it burned down and started coming back up. They needed strong backs and I needed food. Ended up stayin’ there for longer. Then you were comin’ around and I heard you skipped us. So, I had to run...”

“Run all fucking night. Yeah, you told me.”

Carill grinned. “Didn’t know I _could_ run that long.”

Luciana nodded slowly, sipped her wine.

“What about you? What’s your family look like? I know you got, what, three kids and a husband.”

“Strictly speaking, I’m no longer part of Amadeus,” she said. “I haven’t been since I married into the House of Wrynn. But, my brothers and sisters were my first friends, and they still are for the most part. I have two younger sisters, one of whom is a mage. I have two older brothers. A father and a mother.” She shrugged. “A typical noble family. They are the first branch of Amadeus. There is a second, third, and fourth. The third and fourth are the ones that travel, keep in contact with the people Amadeus trades with, buys from and sells to. My cousin, Marcellus, is working as an assistant to myself and the Prince.”

“Big family.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “The first branch had an unusually large brood in my generation. I had a younger brother, but he was... killed.”

“Ouch,” Carill said, without much sympathy.

“Yes. Well.” Luciana sniffed absently. “Shit happens.”

“Right?” Carill said. “Any weird cousins? Anyone interesting? Besides yourself, of course.”

“I had a cousin named Scaril,” Luciana said. “When it was discovered she was dabbling in fel magic, she was disowned. She is now a Grand High Warlock, and a member of one of the largest and most powerful guilds in the Alliance. It's rumoured she's gaining power in the Council of the Black Harvest.”

“Bit of a mistake to give her the boot, then.” Carill didn't seem to recognize the name of the secretive warlock group. Luciana didn't take the time to educate her on it. She'd learn about it when it was necessary.

“Only a little.” Luciana smiled humourlessly and sipped her wine. It went well with the bitter olives that accompanied the spider legs. “She’s loyal to the Alliance and that’s what matters. What’s better is that she can handle Damran. Somewhat.”

“I heard about that one. Damran. Does some bad shit.”

“That would be the demonic influence.” Luciana shrugged. “They obey their guild master. Things could be worse.” She looked at Carill. “If you’re not able to meet the standards for the Royal Guard in time, you might want to look into the Glory Seekers.”

“I’ll keep that in here.” Carill tapped her temple. “So, where to after this?”

“We’ll rest here a few more hours, and then keep moving. To Darkshire. I’ll be checking up on the Deathsworn, see how they’re coming along, make sure they’re treating their new quartermaster fairly. Then we’ll move north to Elwynn and split up. Most will stay behind. Me, you, and one or two others will take gryphons from Ridgepoint Tower to Stormwind.”

“What about your horse?”

“I’ll leave Thunderer with the stable master in Ridgepoint. He’ll need a rest by then. They’ll send him by stablemaster’s portal to Stormwind.” She shrugged. “He’s used to it.”

“Stable portal?” Carill asked. “Is that better than an unstable portal?”

Luciana chuckled briefly. “No, it’s a portal for stabled mounts. It’s a specific kind of portal meant to transport mounts between stables. You can earn quite a good living if you can get a job in that field, since no one wants to entrust their mounts to unskilled mages.”

Carill nodded. “Okay. Magic. Great. What about the other guy you were askin’ about? Nhenas?”

“He’ll find us here soon, I would imagine,” Luciana said. “If he’s not already on his way here. Lureith might ask to stay behind for him.”

“What are they?” Carill asked, and Luciana looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

“Night elves?” she half-asked. “Haven’t you seen a night elf before?”

“No, I mean, to each other.”

“Oh. They’re brother and sister,” Luciana said. “Not twins, but they’re close, as they’re both warriors.”

“Ah.” Carill nodded again.

“You’ll get a bit of a culture shock when you get to Stormwind,” Luciana said. “You’ll need to adjust a bit to the way we live in the city. I don’t mean that you’ll need to change. It’ll be different from what you’re used to. You’ll see a lot more draenei and worgen, gnomes, dwarves. A lot of strange and powerful magic, used in any way someone can get it to work. Machinery that’s advanced so quickly it’ll look like magic, at first. There will be a lot to take in.”

“I’ll be fine,” Carill said. “Find some work, get myself a room somewhere.”

“Oh, no,” Luciana said. “You’ll be rooming in the Old Town with the other trainees. You’re going to be too busy to work.”

“Great. One less worry. What about food?”

“They’ll feed you plenty. It’s the Warrior’s Conclave. They’re used to big appetites.”

“Alright.” Carill nodded, leaned back in her chair, and sighed heavily. “So, all I need to do is get good, and keep your ass in one piece. Right?”

“Right.” Luciana chuckled. “I think Victoria would like you.”

“That’s your old guard? She retire?”

“No. I cut off her legs.”

Carill blinked. “The fuck for?” she asked casually.

“Feral worgen can spread their curse through their bite. It was either cut it off before it reached her organs, or watch her turn feral and then kill her.”

“Oh. Good call.”

Luciana shrugged, and then looked over. “Did you eat enough?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” She set her wine glass on the table, and relaxed into her chair. “In that case, keep an eye out. I’m going to rest my eyes for a bit.”

“Okay.” Carill shifted in her seat. The legs of the chair scraped along the floor. The room fell silent save for the hearth fire, and the sound of Carill’s steady heartbeat. She had a strong heart, Luciana noted absently.


	64. Lilias Samson

Darkshire welcomed them with open arms, mostly because of Luciana’s presence. Within minutes of arriving their mounts were stabled and they had the top floor of the recently expanded town inn to themselves. The space was meant for large functions and entertaining important guests. Luciana supposed that being a Princess would certainly make one an important guest, regardless of who the host was.

Carill enjoyed the large meal provided. “See, this is why I’m sticking with you,” she said, pointing at Luciana with a half-eaten turkey leg. “Good eats. Hopefully some good fights, too.”

“I don’t doubt there will be plenty of those,” Luciana said. “If you make it.”

“I will.”

Luciana nodded. She could, if anything, appreciate Carill’s bluntness and easy manner, even if she was sometimes quite rude. Maybe it would be refreshing to have someone like Carill at her side. If Carill didn’t improve quickly enough, Luciana might be able to postpone her induction to a later date.

Luciana only took Niall with her when she dropped in on the Deathsworn. They had a small, sturdy building on the outskirts of town, fitted to be a proper barracks for a bunch of intelligent undead. Sparse, with little in the way of comfort. None of them spoke to Luciana when she entered, until she removed her helm and spoke to them.

“Where is your quartermaster?” she asked.

“Upstairs, in her room,” a dwarf replied. The double-tone of his voice grated and it made Luciana’s teeth itch.

“And Mordreth?”

“Upstairs, too,” the same death knight replied. Luciana nodded and turned to climb the stairs. Niall followed closely.

“Are they all death knights?” he murmured.

“Yes. Do you know any death knights personally?”

“There are a few in the guild, yes. I know they require regular bloodshed. Something to do with their runeblades.”

Luciana nodded, mostly to herself. “The feral worgen in Darkshire are nearly impossible to seal away permanently,” she said.

“Two birds with one stone,” Niall said quietly, as though realizing something. “Princess, you...” he said slowly. “You’re a genius,” he said, gazing at her with bright, wide-eyed wonder.

“Thank you,” she said graciously, giving him a crooked smile.

“That is, uh, of course you... I mean...”

“I know what you mean,” she chuckled. He fell silent, blushing furiously under his hood. He ducked his chin but she could still see the scarlet spreading down his cheeks and neck. “How old are you, Niall?”

“Twenty-five, Princess.”

Luciana sighed quietly. He seemed so much younger to her, but she knew it was only that she felt so old. “How long have you been travelling?”

“I started a few years ago as an auxiliary raider for Wanderlust,” he said. “But I work well with Thane and he likes me, so they moved me to the main raid group. Right now, though, there’s not many raids going on. So I’m hiring out here and there to stay sharp until something pops up.”

“Something always pops up,” Luciana said.

“Yeah. It’s what we’re waiting for, anyway.” They reached the top of the staircase, and Luciana looked down the hallway. First she looked to the left, and then the right, and then she raised her head and sniffed. “Do you... Um, have a sharp nose, or...? I mean, I’ve noticed you seem to sniff a lot. Like Burt.” Niall was rambling a bit, obviously nervous, and he seemed to catch him. He fell silent, blushing crimson and trying to hide it with his hood.

“Yes,” Luciana said.

“Oh.”

“You’re curious.”

“Well, yes.”

“It’s Goldrinn’s blessing.”

“Oh. Oh,” he said again slowly, realization dawning in his voice. “Oh,” he said again, shortly.

“Yes,” Luciana agreed, smiling at him again, and he ducked his head and looked away. “Come, let’s find the quartermaster. She should be down this way.”

Luciana found the door behind which the scent of living human originated. She knocked twice, waited a moment, and then entered anyway. Mordreth looked up to her and she glanced at him - no armour or shirt, some rot eating away at the side of his abdomen and mushrooms growing inside the hole. She looked at the other person in the room.

“You must be Lilias,” Luciana greeted.

“Your Highness,” Lilias said, rising smoothly from her chair to bow at the waist. It was too shallow for a proper greeting to royalty. Luciana let it slide. “It’s an honour.”

“Sit,” Luciana said. Lilias sat. “Mordreth, how goes it?”

“Well. We could use about another hundred blades, but our numbers are enough for now.”

“Gather as many as you can use,” Luciana said. “The more of you that are provided with an appropriate outlet, the better.”

Mordreth nodded solemnly. “I didn’t know you were passing through,” he said. “Far as I heard you were in Westfall. Gave up?”

“No,” she said curtly, giving him a chilly look of warning. He didn’t feel cold, she reminded herself. She sharpened it into a glare. Even a death knight would notice a missing limb. “Plans change when you’re in my position. You should know that, General,” she said.

“Of course. Lilias?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

He rose to his feet, far taller than any of the others in the room. Luciana stepped in the room while he moved past her, letting him shift to accommodate her. She ignored the wave of clammy air that followed him.

“Shut the door,” she said. “Keep any unwanted guests on the outside. I won’t be long.”

“Princess.” Niall shut the door behind him and she didn’t hear his footsteps leaving, nor did she hear the telltale swish of a Levitation spell.

“Lilias Samson?” Luciana asked, sitting in the stocky chair Mordreth had vacated.

“Yes.”

Luciana took a moment to truly look at her. She was a few inches over five feet, with a pretty angular face and a too-thin body. Mordreth had sent Luciana a brief report on the induction of their quartermaster. He’d mentioned the physical state she’d started out in.

“You look better,” Luciana commented.

“Thank you. I’ve gained a bit of weight already, and the bloating’s gone down. They can’t fix my leg, though.” She looked down mournfully at her worgen-mangled leg. Luciana did, too.

“We’re looking into advancing our prosthetics technology in the capital,” she said. “You should keep an ear out for it. The moment you hear something, put in a requisition through the Deathsworn. It’ll go much faster than a personal request.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lilias said, looking up at Luciana with a look in her eyes Luciana didn’t like. It was too old, too worn out. Lilias must have suffered greatly during her extended quarantine.

“How do you like your new job?” Luciana asked.

“Well enough. No one treats me bad, though some of them are... weird,” she said finally with an odd little smile. “General Mordreth looks after me when he can. Chaemia - she’s a draenei, she’s very tall - she’s sort of like my personal guard, I suppose, but she’s always going and fetching things for me too if I even just mention something.”

“A support,” Luciana supplied.

“Yes. I don’t mind it.” Lilias shrugged. “There’s plenty to do and they make sure I have enough food. And I’m very comfortable up here,” she said, patting the bed she sat on. “None of them really sleep or anything, but they make sure I have what I need. These sheets are from Uldum!” she said. “I don’t even know where that is.”

“A desert,” Luciana supplied. “In southern Kalimdor.”

“Oh. That’s quite far.”

“Mordreth no doubt wants to ensure that you’re comfortable enough to do your duties properly,” she said. “And, I imagine they might have lost touch with mortal comforts a little bit,” she added, chuckling a little.

“Maybe,” Lilias agreed with a laugh. “It really seems that way, sometimes.”

“So you’re settling in here alright?”

“Yes, very well. Thank you. The General says you insisted he find a living quartermaster, which is why he came to find me. So I suppose it’s thanks to you I have a second chance at life.”

Luciana shrugged. “I do what I can to make sure each position is filled with whoever is most suited to it. I’m glad you’ve found a place here, at any rate. Are your duties fair to you?”

“Yes. I usually only have a few hours of work in a day, just keeping track of funds and voluntary aids and such, and I get every Thursday and Friday to myself. Sometimes Sunday, too,” she added. “And the General promised to find a tutor for me so that I can learn other languages like Darnassian.”

“That would be a great help to you in your duties, I imagine.”

“Yes! And I’ve always wanted to travel,” she said. “I want to see Teldrassil. They say its branches scrape clouds out of the sky!”

“It’s a sight,” Luciana said. “It’s not something you can forget.”

Lilias sighed. “Oh, I can’t wait,” she said. “I’ve signed on for five years,” she said. “Then, and every five years after that, I renew my contract with the Deathsworn. I think, after thirty or so - a normal time for a job, right? - when I retire, I’ll use my earnings to move to Darnassus. Oh, that would be a wonder.”

Luciana half-smiled, a small thing. She didn’t want her face to twist in a way she knew was frightening. Except to Anduin. He was used to her scars, took comfort in knowing she had survived them. “Good,” she said softly. “And the lichfire. How is it?”

“It burned a little, at first,” she said. “The General put it in through here,” she said, pulling up her sleeve to show a faded scar on her forearm. It was less than an inch long, and obviously not very deep. “There are a few ways to do it. I chose this way. It moves the lichfire right into the blood and it’s very quick. Within a day I was able to get up and move around with no weakness or dizzy spells. It’s really amazing.”

“My clerk said that things were explained fairly to you. Were they?”

“Oh, yes. It took four or five hours to explain everything. The General is very fair to me,” she said. “And to the others, though I think they need less concession than I do, as they don’t need to sleep.” She smiled awkwardly. “I need to sleep a lot, still. It’s because my body is repairing itself while adjusting to the lichfire, which is still burning away the last bit of the curse.” She shrugged. “It’s not too bad. I ache, sometimes, but it just feels like I slept oddly.”

“Good. If you have any difficulties, let the General know immediately. He knows to be careful with you.”

Lilias smiled. “I’m not worried. I think I might have fun here, really. There’s a lot of interesting people, although some of them smell terrible. Lots of stories, too.”

“Good.” Luciana stood, and when Lilias made to stand, Luciana waved for her to stay seated. “I just came by to make sure you were settling in alright. If ever you need anything that you feel uncomfortable asking for from Mordreth, or if you feel something is amiss with him or his treatment of your or anyone else, see the Mayor and ask him to send word to me. Otherwise, you can simply hire a gryphon and come to Stormwind to see me directly. But, I don’t believe that will ever be necessary. I certainly hope not.”

“It’s an honour to meet you, Princess,” Lilias said. “I heard all about what you’ve done for Darkshire from my family. It’s really good to know that you’re looking out for us. It’s not always so sure, out here.”

“I do what I can for my people, Quartermaster Samson,” Luciana said. “It’s my responsibility and my honour to lead Stormwind.”

Lilias smiled, too old and too worn for someone so young. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, and Luciana nodded.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Luciana said. “We’re just moving through. Remember what I’ve said.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Niall stepped aside the moment she opened the door. He followed her in silence, back downstairs and outside, and all the way to the inn. That was where he broke the silence, but only after they’d safely returned to the private top floor.

“That girl is the quartermaster for the Deathsworn?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You think she’ll be okay?” he asked slowly.

“I think so. Mordreth is a loyal soldier. I gave him a place in the chain of command. He’ll be comfortable there and it’ll give him room to make sure she is, too.”

Niall nodded past his obvious discomfort. He didn’t dare question her, especially not for something so trivial. Luciana did not ask for his opinion, either.


	65. Interrogating Lars

Anduin was not having a good day.

Luciana had yet to return to Stormwind, though it was reported that she was moving swiftly through the safer roads of Duskwood with a party of five. She hadn’t sent him any reports, not even a quick letter, and he felt miffed that she couldn’t be bothered to even do that.

Still, he had other things to worry about, more immediate things. He knew she was safe, and for now it was enough.

“You didn’t see fit to immediately alert the Princess of the ambush?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why?” he sighed.

“Wouldn’t be very practical to open myself right back up to attack.”

This was a very aggravating man to deal with. He wondered how Luciana did it on a day to day basis. That, and how she dealt with his blank gaze. If Anduin was honest with himself, it was a bit creepy. “And you didn’t see fit to send for help, either.”

“Too obvious.” Completely disrespectful, too. Anduin resisted the urge to scream in frustration. This was not a forthcoming man.

“How did you know to plan this?” Anduin asked.

“I didn’t like how easy it was to get information out of the kid. I didn’t think it was going to keep being so easy.” That was a bit better. This man was paranoid and obsessive, Anduin knew that much. He decided to keep on that line of questioning.

“Tell me again what you did.”

“Took one of the Blackwing gryphons, they’re quieter and less skittish. Kept an eye on them from the outside.”

“You did not alert anyone? Not even your Princess?”

“No. Had to move fast, and quiet. Couldn’t chance them finding out.”

“You knew that there was someone to avoid?”

“There’s always someone,” he said gravely. “You gotta be ready for it, from any direction. There’s always someone.”

“You really thought someone would attack a squad of Royal Guards and Stockade Wardens?”

“Maybe,” he said. “If there really is this kind of violence and bad magic brewing in Moonbrook, they might be ballsy enough. Turns out, I was right.”

“This could be connected to some other whispers we’ve been having,” Anduin mused.

“I know some people stupid enough to whisper about Lucy,” Lars said. “They think she can’t hear them. She does. She hears everything.”

Anduin eyed him warily. He acted oddly, sometimes, when he spoke of Luciana. “How did you know where to go? What to do?”

“Decided to keep an eye on the kid, since they’re so important to Luce. She decided they live. Gotta keep it that way.”

“... You knew it would be at the mines, you said. How?” 

“Mines are trouble. Too much space, out of the way, out of sight. We couldn’t see anything on the way up. Makes sense to hide shit down there, where no one would go to look for it. Great place for an ambush.”

“You could have sent for help. Many died that could have been saved.”

“And lose the kid? No. Lucy’s order is more important. Whatever that kid’s got in their head, we can use.”

“You’re not at all sorry for the deaths of loyal Wardens and Guards?”

“No.”

Anduin breathed deeply. _Patience_ , he reminded himself. “You should be glad the Princess trusts you so much. Otherwise you’d be a prime suspect.”

“I should be anyway. There’s always someone.”

Anduin rolled his eyes as he turned away. Light, but the man was paranoid. “And does Luciana know?”

“Not unless someone sent a bird recently.”

Anduin sighed. “Marcellus, take care of that. She should be moving into Darkshire soon.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said smoothly. The door shut behind him with a thud. It was a particularly heavy door. Lars’ eyes followed his departure.

“Prince,” he said slowly. “No disrespect to you, but... You know that’s not the Princess’ cousin?”

Anduin looked at Lars with a sharp gaze, something close to a glare. “Speak quickly, and plainly,” he said. “Now.”

“He doesn’t smell right to be an Amadeus. They tend to prefer cooler scents but he usually smells like fire and burning wet cedar. Also the expressions he makes aren’t like Luciana’s or her brothers. It could be that it’s because he’s not from the same branch, but I looked at the fourth, too. Generally the same. His are all wrong. And I’ve seen him when he was alone. That was hard. He’s crafty. Sly, good at hiding. He’s got a disguise, magical illusions probably, that make him look different. Natural hair seems to be black, eyes are reddish-brown. Not an Amadeus colour. His skin tone’s about the same, but his mannerism’s all wrong.”

Anduin stared at Lars for a moment, and then sighed. “When did you start realizing all this?” he asked.

Lars eyed him. “Few months ago.”

“And you kept quiet?”

“Luciana would’ve sniffed him out long before me. If not her, then the King. But she lets him near her kids. Figured there must be a story behind it.”

“Yes. Well. I’d prefer to let Luciana tell you, but I can’t let you out when you seem to know so much already.”

Lars cocked his head.

“He is not her cousin. He’s disguised for his own safety. He is under our protection for the time being.”

“Thought something like that. Maybe a noble in trouble, or someone who knows too much. Still, though, too close to the kids.”

Lars was a bit too casual about his respect, Anduin decided. But somehow he fit with Luciana like a puzzle piece, and Anduin knew the casualness was only borne of respect and loyalty for Luciana, however backwards it seemed to him. And however suspect that loyalty seemed at the moment. 

Lars had been far too prepared for the ambush outside the Jangolode mines. Anduin would need to speak with Luciana about it, when she actually saw fit to return. Lars cocked his head again and Anduin smoothed the irritation from his features. “I’ve known him for years,” Anduin said. “He came to me for help and in return, he’s being useful.”

Lars hummed. “His disguise is pretty good. Might want to change the smell a bit, though, and tell him not to arch his eyebrows so much. And unless he’s got a sniffer like Luce, quit flaring his nostrils.”

“I will let him know,” Anduin sighed. “In the meantime, you are not to leave this room until Luciana returns.”

“Why’s that?”

Anduin looked at Lars, not glaring, simply looking. “Did you question my orders, Queen’s Guard?” Anduin said.

“No. Just want to know why. I would’ve gone out to meet up with Luce and keep her ass in one piece. She tends to get in trouble a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Anduin said slowly. “No. You are to remain in this room until she returns. If you need food, water, a healer, anything, you will send for it through one of the Royal Guards stationed in the antechamber. If there’s an emergency, the same thing. These are my orders and I expect them to be followed as though they were hers.”

Lars stared at him. He didn’t blink often enough. Anduin found it a bit unnerving, and wondered if that was why he did it.

“Understood,” Lars said quietly.

“Will you follow this order?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’d really hate to have you put you on the suspect list, since Luciana is so trusting of you,” Anduin said. “But I will if you present any further reason to. I _will_ get to the bottom of this. There was an attack on my wife, you know,” he said. “I’ve lost her once before.”

“Never again,” Lars said.

“No. Never again.”


	66. Back in Elwynn

Luciana was somewhat glad to be back in Elwynn. Though she was quite fond of Duskwood’s murky forests and quiet air, Elwynn was home to her. The woods were thicker, fuller somehow, more of a challenge to keep up with as all of her senses were needed. To catch every sound, every scent and every flicker of movement she needed to be alert, ready. Duskwood was quieter, and easier to relax in, but Elwynn was a challenge she enjoyed. 

She’d received Anduin’s message by courier on their way out - he was waiting for her in Stormwind, as was Lars. There was no explanation for Lars’ sudden absence and off-grid movements, but Luciana knew she would get one soon.

A wolf howled to the north, joined by four or five others. She turned her head to listen. Burt’s ears pricked up, but he didn’t look away from the road in front of them. Thunderer snorted. Somewhere to the west, a bear growled a warning. A cub whined in response. Wind rustled the trees and there was the faintest sound of a handful of birds taking to the air. Luciana’s nose tickled and she raised it slightly to sniff - deer, old buck, ripe for the hunt. Thane’s ram huffed.

Luciana breathed deeply and let it out slowly. They hadn’t taken a road out of Darkshire, though there was a newer one that led straight to Eastvale. She felt it best, considering the last time they’d taken a road they’d been ambushed while she was distracted. She glanced at Carill, with a large horse borrowed from Darkshire’s stables. If Carill passed the test Luciana had set to her she’d earn her own warhorse. 

They would soon be within sight of Ridgepoint Tower. Originally built as a watch tower for dangers that would dare encroach on Elwynn, it had become a veritable fortress to deal with the constant stream of gnolls from Redridge and undead wandering up from Duskwood. Both numbers had been reduced in recent years, but the tower stood strong for local defense.

“Lureith, go ahead to Ridgepoint Tower. It should be northeast from here. Let them know we’ll need their stables, a stablemaster’s portal, and a gryphon each.”

Lureith nodded once, and urged her saber on ahead. It bounded away eagerly and Luciana watched it for a moment.

They’d left Niall in Darkshire to wait for Nhenas. When Luciana had given the order to pack up and leave Lureith’s face had turned into a thundercloud. Though reluctant to split up so close to the finish, Luciana had decided that Niall would be a fitting travelling companion to the warrior they’d been forced to leave behind. 

Luciana did not doubt that Lureith was eager to be reunited with her brother, or to at least know that he was still alive. Many dangers lurked in Duskwood, even for an experienced warrior like Nhenas. And if he died while hunting down Luciana’s dog tags, she knew that Lureith would not be eager to return to Luciana’s service, even under orders from her own High Priestess.

Luciana’s mind wandered while they continued their slow walk up the lush hills of Elwynn’s southern shore. There were the remains of a great forest here, culled by the Eastvale logging company. Regrowth was slow, but Luciana could smell it in the air all the same.

“Nice place,” Burt commented.

“Is this the first you’ve been into the forest?” Luciana asked.

“Naw, but first over to this end of it.”

She nodded. “There’s the tower,” she said, pointing it out. “We’ll take a short rest there only if someone needs it. We’re nearly at the end of our journey and I’d like to finish my return to Stormwind as soon as possible.”

“I think we’re all good,” Burt said, looking at Thane.

“Yeah, I can keep goin’ long as ye need me to, Princess,” the dwarf said. “I’m a dwarf, after all. Stout ‘n strong!”

“Funny, that sounds like the label on a barrel of beer,” Luciana said.

“Aye, I’d drink to that,” he laughed.

Ridgepoint was a well-oiled machine to Luciana’s experienced eyes. Lureith waited for them at the stables and it didn’t take long for Thunderer and the other mounts to be led away by experienced stable hands. “Have them sent to Stormwind tonight,” Luciana ordered. She looked down at Shauna, who perked her ears. “And this one, too. She can’t get on a gryphon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the stablemaster replied. “They’re in good hands here.” He patted his thigh and whistled to the dog who, with Luciana’s gesture, went to inspect him with a curious nose.

“I know,” she said, nodding to him. His back straightened under her gaze, chin lifted in pride. “The gryphons?

“Waiting for you up top. It’ll be a quick trip - they’re our fastest fliers.”

“Good. Thank you.”

The stable hand hadn’t lied - the gryphon given to Luciana, with a strong back and wide wings, was swifter than she’d expected. She was forced to duck her head down behind its neck to keep the wind out of her eyes. It knew to fly to Stormwind’s roost and she let it fly as it saw fit. She could hardly hear the others following suit past the rushing wind.

The flight was fast, but they were still travelling over the entirety of Elwynn Forest. From east to west it was nearly a thousand kilometers wide. Though flight was much faster than horseback, it gave Luciana enough time to think.

_Recalling is what we do to green Knights and corrupt Captains. It rankles to be recalled. But I know why you did it and I agree with it. I would have done the same. I just need to learn to adjust to being in this position, now. I’m not as free as I was to move about as I please. Just give me time to get used to that. I know you’re upset that I didn’t immediately return after the situation with Slim but you know why I couldn’t. It would’ve looked bad, to say the least. I can’t be seen as a coward running away from the smallest slight against me. You were right to recall me when you did. Just let me get used to being someone who gets recalled for her own safety. I’m not used to that._

She knew it wouldn’t come out so smoothly in front of him. He always seemed to make it difficult to express herself, though she knew it wasn’t his fault. _Nerves are your body’s way of reminding you it’s important._ Bann’s words to her, long ago, still echoed in her mind. They rang true. She still grumbled to herself about it, privately, because she knew Anduin would tease her about it.

_I know you worry for me. I know you want me to be safe and I do appreciate it. Like I said, I’m used to being able to move about freely and see to my own business. I have to adjust to this new command and my new position. I’ll be more careful from here on out, least of all because I’ll be back and forth between my daughter and the Barrens. And I worry about you too, you know. You’re not off gallivanting with assassins and ambushers like I am but you’re still in quite a lot of danger here. You’re a prime target for assassins. I worry when I’m not here with you, to protect you. To keep you grounded during an attack or after a nightmare. I just need to get used to it. Thank you for worrying about me._

She sighed when the gryphon started to descend, angling its wings and slowing as it approached the great stone cliffs of Stormwind’s outer walls. It flew over them, flapped to slow itself further, and tucked its wings in as it landed on the outer edge of the roost. It quickly paced further in, making room for the others to land and making its way to the water buckets waiting for it.

“Princess, welcome home!” the flightmaster greeted her.

“Dungar. Good to be back.” She gave her gryphon’s neck a pat while one of the flight hands disengaged the safety buckles around her boots. She made sure they were loosened fully before sliding from the saddle. “All of you, good work out there and thank you for the company. Head for the Home Guard’s office in the Keep for your rewards.”

Lureith barely spared a nod as she passed, still upset that they’d left her brother behind in their hurry. Luciana knew she couldn’t accept the blame - Nhenas had run off on his own while she wasn’t even present. He was certainly capable of making his own decisions and Luciana hoped he wouldn’t pay for the one he’d made.

“T’was an honour, Princess,” Thane said gruffly, saluting her as he passed. “But if ye don’t mind, I’m hankerin’ for a good haggis.”

“Try the Golden Keg in the Dwarven District.”

“Thank ye, I will.”

Burt bowed his head to her as he passed, now in human form and noticeably scrawnier than before. “An honour, Princess,” he said in a pleasingly smooth voice.

“You smell much better like this,” she said. “Less wet dog.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Ah, it does a body good to get out and about like that every now and then. But I think Thane had the right idea. I’d like a good steak, I think.”

“The Blue Recluse in the Mage Quarter has the best in Stormwind.”

“Thank you, I think I’ll head there soon.”

She watched him go, turned to Dungar, and nodded to him. He saluted her, and she felt his gaze as she turned to walk out of the roost. Her boots were loud on the stone stairs and she attracted some attention, even as she pulled her helm from her head and gave her hair a good shake. “I need a shower,” she mumbled.

“Same. Where’s this Conclave?” Carill asked.

“Follow me, I’ll drop you off. We’ll speak later.”

“Alright.” Carill followed her in silence, casual in a way that Luciana could appreciate.

“Would you care for a horse, Princess?”

Luciana turned her head, and looked up. Captain Lacey Revshon, Stormwind’s head quartermaster, greying at the temples and as straight-backed as always. “No, thank you,” she said. “I’ve been on a gryphon for almost four hours. I think I need the walk.”

Lacey chuckled. “Understood perfectly, Your Highness. Light be with you.”

“And with you, quartermaster.” 

Carill looked the Captain up and down, eyebrows raised. “Can I get armour like that?”

“Yes.”

“Great shit.”

The city was always full of people and lively. Luciana knew it was to many the heart of the Alliance, and while she walked she considered it. Darnassus and the Exodar were somewhat off the beaten path, in terms of capital cities, and Gilneas was still occupied mostly by Forsaken. Gnomeregan belonged once more to the gnomes, though their High Tinker had yet to clear it for mass habitation. Pandaria’s Alliance capital was also quite out of the way and isolated from the others, while Ironforge was closely connected to Stormwind. 

Though, Luciana had to admit, the weather in Ironforge was worse than in Stormwind. Despite the storms from the sea and the cold air coming from the mountains, Stormwind’s year-round weather was almost pleasant compared to Dun Morogh’s perpetual winter. Even the chaos created by the leylines around the city was nothing compared to a Dun Morogh blizzard. Perhaps it was also the issue of size - Ironforge was limited in those terms, enclosed as it was in a mountain. If they wanted to expand they had to be careful. Stormwind still had plenty of room around it, though expansion could prove quite costly.

“Here,” Luciana said, gesturing to the entrance to the Command Center. “Go past the white walls. You’ll see training dummies. When you find the obviously enchanted ones, you’ll see a bunch of people fighting with people watching over them. Ask them about the Conclave.”

“Right.” Carill took off without a second thought, head swivelling like a gnomish guard turret.

Luciana kept moving. She didn’t doubt that Stormwind’s massive harbours were also a contributing factor. Regular boats to Northrend, to several locations in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms, and even chartered ones that usually proved easy to buy into - travel from Stormwind was easier than from Ironforge. 

There was also the shrine by Olivia’s Pond, with portals to key locations all over the known world. Adventurers tended to pass through Stormwind whichever way they were going and they tended to bring a lot of goods and gold with them. That naturally brought more people, more merchants and bankers and trade professionals. It helped, too, that Stormwind’s population count was higher than most other capitals, even discounting those not native to Elwynn. Humans, Luciana thought, were remarkably resilient.

 _Or maybe we just breed faster,_ she thought, a smirk curling the edge of her mouth. Humans did seem to gain numbers much more quickly than night elves or dwarves. Her family certainly had, on both sides.

Her thoughts occupied her, let her ignore the noise of the city and the bustle of people around her. Soon, she would be at the Keep. Soon, she would be home again. Despite it being such a short trip, it was still nice to return.


	67. Home

Luciana reached the Keep quickly, lost in her thoughts as she walked through her capital city, and climbed the stairs two at a time. Even she ended up breathing hard and sweating in her armour by the time she reached the top.

“Shower first,” she murmured. “See Anduin, shower, then talk.”

“Your Highness,” she was greeted at the front gate by the guards.

“Evening, gentlemen,” she returned as she passed by. “Any news?”

“Lars Abelen is waiting in the northern corner,” Guard Helmsley replied. “And the Prince, of course, awaits your return. He’s in the Throne Room, last I heard.”

“Thank you, Helmsley.”

The incline leading to the Throne Room was easier than the stairs. She wished for the burn in her legs as she paced the length of the decorated tile floor. There weren’t many in the main hall today, nor by the throne. The regular guards and a handful of citizens, and as far as she could tell, no courtiers.

“Luciana,” Anduin greeted. He stood on the stairs before the throne, two steps down from his father who sat in the throne itself. Genn stood on his other side, on the platform itself as Varian’s equal.

“I’m back,” she said, pausing before the dais. She looked down when she felt a tug on her helm in her hands.

“Please allow me, Princess,” the young squire said, her head bowed.

Luciana looked up at Varian, an eyebrow quirked, and then at Anduin. Then, back to Varian when he spoke. “Squire Lewis,” he said. “She is now your attendant and will aid you as part of her duties and training.”

“Understood, Lord,” Luciana replied, looking back to the squire. “Your name?”

“Squire Lewis, Sir.

“No, the other one.”

Lewis looked up, wide-eyed in fear and awe. “Alana, Sir,” she squeaked.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen, Sir.”

Luciana handed over her helm and Alana held it with shaky hands. “I’ll be a moment. Do you know your way about the Keep?” Alana nodded frantically. “Wait for me in my personal chamber.” She nodded again, about-faced smartly and walked off. Luciana waited until she was out of earshot. “Fourteen? Really?” she asked Varian, her voice barely more than a murmur.

“She’s your squire, not your guard,” he said, waving her up. She climbed the stairs to stand on the same level as Anduin, close enough for a private conversation. “Abelen knew that there would be an ambush at the mines. I don’t want to put him on the suspect list but you know how it looks.”

“I do. I’ll talk to him.”

“He’s been... obtuse,” Anduin said. Luciana glanced at him. His expression was flat, eyes cold. They’d need to talk today, soon.

“Yes, your Courier reached me on the banks.” She turned back to Varian. “Nhenas took off, of his own volition, in the forest. I left Niall behind to deal with that.”

“Why did he run off? He must know better than to abandon you,” Varian asked, eyes glinting.

“We were ambushed again on our way past Raven Hill. While I was distracted, with two others at my side,” she said, glancing at Anduin. Still stony-faced. “A warrior named Carill followed me from Westfall. From Sentinel Hill. I’ve already had Niall look at her, but I’ve sent her to the Warrior’s Conclave to be tested.”

“I’ll send word to Shaw,” Varian said, nodding. “Go on.”

“She wants to join the Queen’s Guard, mostly for selfish reasons such as steady meals and a guaranteed safe place to rest. Also, she wants to ensure that our... apology to Westfall continues. She’s originally from Elwynn, apparently.” Varian nodded again, slowly, thinking. “The ambushers numbered just over a dozen. They took Thane down with some sort of sleeping draught, pinned Burt and my horse. Nhenas took off after the ones that rifled through my saddlebags for my dog tags. Nothing else was taken.”

“I hope you didn’t pursue them.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good. What else?”

“We took care of them, questioned one. I’ve already sent that report to SI:7.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Afterwards we continued to Darkshire with Carill. I checked in with the Deathsworn and their new quartermaster. We moved on after a few hours of rest to Ridgepoint. There was no further trouble. I left Niall in Darkshire to wait for Nhenas to avoid rebellion from Lureith, who I don’t doubt is already on her way back down to find her brother.”

“If he finds your tags?” Varian prompted.

“I will thank him personally. Depending on the trouble he ran into I will give him enough gold for repairs, travel cost, and a bit extra.”

“Good. They made it personal. Keep it personal.”

She nodded. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“No, I’ve heard enough for now. Speak to your guard, and then you’re off for the day. Get some rest.”

“If I might inquire about the prisoner?”

“They’re safe,” Varian said, and did not elaborate. She tilted her head, just slight enough to be a question. He blinked slowly, and she bowed her head. “Dismissed.”

“Your Majesty.”

She turned and walked down the stairs. Anduin followed behind her. Thankfully, he did not speak until they were far into the private wing.

“Take a shower,” he said stiffly. “I’ll be in our chambers.”

“Anduin...” Luciana watched him walk away, and sighed. “Oh, he’s mad,” she murmured to herself. “He’s mad.”

Her personal chambers were further down the hall. Anduin had his own, as well, for when he wanted to entertain guests separately or if she wanted a quiet hour to herself after training. They would no doubt see more use as their coronation drew closer and their need for personal space grew. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see too much use.

Alana was waiting for Luciana, still holding the helm, when she entered. “Oh, there you are,” Luciana said, immediately beginning to unbuckle her pauldrons. “Help me get this shit off, will you?”

“Yes!” Alana stuttered, placing the helm down with reverence on a purple cushion on the side table that hadn’t been there before. Luciana eyed it while she let Alana reach for the small buckles at her back to disengage her breastplate. A cushion. For her blackrock helm.

“Careful,” Luciana warned when Alana made to remove her back plate. “It’s heavy.”

“I’m-“ Alana cut off. “Alright!” she promised, tottering to the armour rack. Luciana chuckled and reached out to pluck the metal out of her hands.

“Don’t hurt yourself, now,” Luciana said. “It’s unnecessary.”

With Alana’s eager, shaky-handed help, Luciana removed her armour and then the protective leathers underneath. Stripped nearly naked, she took her time pulling her tank top over her head and untying the cotton shorts she wore under it all.

“Tank tops seem to be popular now,” Alana commented, taking the clothes before Luciana could toss them aside. She had a blush on her cheeks and ears, and Luciana was reminded of a younger Anduin. “Especially with warriors.”

“They’re comfortable,” Luciana explained shortly. “Is the bath drawn?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” It looked as though Alana would follow her into the bathroom, so Luciana stopped and looked down with an amused half-smile. “I think I can wash myself, Alana.”

“Sir!” she said, blushing furiously and scurrying away.

Luciana gratefully washed the sweat off in the shower with a washcloth and scrubbed her hair out with soap. Then she stepped into the tub. The water in the bath wasn’t too hot, and it smelled of silverleaf. She sank into it with a sigh, and tried not to think of the look Anduin had given her.

He wasn’t just angry, he was upset. At what? She hadn’t returned immediately, true, but she’d taken the safer route given the circumstances. Maybe he didn’t realize how dangerous air travel could be. Was he angry that Lars had acted alone? Was he really that fearful of Slim’s basic attack? Was he stressed from his work?

“Oh, fuck me,” she sighed, rubbing a hand roughly over her face. Anduin was now acting the part of Director of the Home Guard. Any trouble that surpassed local law enforcement would naturally be sent off to the Head Office in Stormwind to be taken care of. Over a dozen dead bodies would meet that criterion. He would have learned of that attack long before she reached Darkshire, as the preliminary report would have first been sent by messenger bird. And she hadn’t sent him a message. “Aw, fucking balls of shit and piss. Oh, fuck me,” she said, sitting up in the tub. “That’s why you’re upset. Fucking dumb of me. Aw, fel.”

She climbed out of the bed, careful not to drag too much water with her. She’d only spent a few minutes in the scented water but she couldn’t sit still knowing the reason she’d been snubbed. She toweled off quickly while she walked out of the bathroom, to Alana’s wide eyes.

“Sir, it’s only been a few... Sir!” she cried when Luciana started yanking cloths on. “Your boots?” she asked when Luciana didn’t slow.

“Sure,” she said, pulling on the well-worn leather boots. They reached her mid calf and were comfortable and soft, meant for walks inside in the Keep. “Stay here. Or, outside. Whatever. I’ll be a while.”

“Sir?” Alana watched her march with long strides out of the room. She’d be okay, Luciana thought. Left to her own devices a squire would find something to do. Maybe polishing armour or reading for her studies. Something.

Luciana slowed outside their shared chambers, and then pushed a sigh out from her belly and entered. Anduin looked up, and she strode to him while he rose from his chair.

“Luciana,” he started.

“I didn’t send word,” she blurted. “It didn’t occur to me to do it in the middle of the day’s movements. I didn’t leave immediately from Westfall. I know Lawrence could have managed but I wanted to give him time to learn the plan. I cut off a carriage of hens and goats and left it for Moonbrook. I know I’m feeding the flames but I can’t starve the civilians stuck there. I didn’t kill Slim, or even properly detain them or charge them. I couldn’t, not where there was mind control involved. I haven’t gotten to the point yet where I can act properly, I know.”

“Luciana,” Anduin said. “Enough.”

Luciana teeth clicked together and she stared at him in silence.

“I am sick of seeing you in danger,” he said. “I’m tired of you wading right into it without a care.”

“I do...”

“Enough, I said!” he snapped, and she reared back like he’d struck him. It had certainly felt like it. “You’re not a Knight anymore, Luciana. You can’t go about your business like you did before. You’re a Princess, a Queen soon, and you need to act like one. Queens cannot stay in a dangerous place after an assassination attempt, and don’t give me this bullshit about how warriors are meant to take hits!” he said warningly. “You’re too important to lose. To Stormwind, and to me. I will not allow it.” He turned away, moving slowly towards the hearth. His body language was all wrong - it looked like he was meandering, lost. Luciana resisted the urge to reach out, touch his shoulder, pull him into a hug. He seemed like he needed one.

“Anduin...”

“I will recall you when I see fit!” he interrupted, rounding on her. “If I am to be High King, I cannot allow my own Queen to traipse about however she pleases. There is an order to these things, Luciana. Those duties are not yours anymore and you need to stop acting like you can have the past and the present,” he said. “You’re not a Knight Captain anymore. You haven’t been for a long time.”

She could do naught but stare at him, shocked. What he was saying, though she knew it to be true, hurt. And it looked like he knew it too, but she did not see a single flash of remorse in his bearing or his eyes. That hurt much worse than his words. And he kept going.

“You are Queen now and you need to take that responsibility as your only one. If you see something that must be done, don’t do it yourself,” he said, clearly exasperated. “Have someone else do it. Someone who’s qualified for it. You’re the Queen. You’re qualified for those duties reserved for the Royal House, and for those of the Commander in Chief. For now,” he warned. “I will not have you in the Barrens, a world away and in so much danger, for any longer than you need to be. You will be in the Exodar, mostly, which I understand. And I’m glad Freya will have you. But you’re not a Knight anymore, Luciana. Just as you would not sacrifice the queen in chess, you have to stop being so willing to lose yourself. It’s like you don’t care!” he exclaimed.

“Anduin,” she tried, weakly. Her voice wavered and she hated it.

“No!” he said. “It’s like you don’t care! About yourself, about whether I lose you,” he said, turning away again. “You don’t care. I try to protect you, I try to keep you safe but you insist on walking right into the stupidest dangers that even a green Knight could avoid,” he mocked. “I was right to recall you, maybe more than you know. You don’t care.” He sounded so disgusted with her, and her chest was tight, squeezing her lungs. She blinked quickly, and swallowed. Her throat hurt. He was hurting her and he must have known it, and he kept doing it, which meant he was enjoying it in some vindictive way. How had she hurt him so badly that he wanted to hurt her like this in return? “If you don’t care, why are you here?” he demanded over his shoulder, eyes cold. 

She couldn’t breathe. She was trying, but her whole body seemed tight, squeezed in on itself. Her gut was tight, roiling with fear and fury. His eyes were so cold. His Light would not touch her. Something was very, very wrong. Something was wrong with him but she couldn't breathe. She turned away, almost stumbling, walked out on weak legs. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air. She couldn’t breathe.


	68. Lasting Effects

Anduin couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know why he’d said all that. He didn’t know why he’d said anything past the first few words. He’d seen Luciana’s face go blank, he’d seen her blink away tears as he’d torn into her. He hadn’t stopped. Some vindictive voice in his head had told him to keep at it. She deserved it, for being so stubborn. She’d needed to hear the things he’d said, yes, but not in such a cruel, condescending way.

But she’d walked away. She’d turned around without a word and walked out of the room, and out of the wing. And he didn’t know how to take that.

“Oh, dear,” Wrathion’s voice said quietly. It wasn’t a drawl, like Anduin would expect. Wrathion actually looked worried when he came out of the shadows. “That was cruel of you, Prince Anduin.”

“Don’t,” Anduin said softly.

“You cut her quite deeply.”

“I said don’t.”

Wrathion looked at him, chin lowered, eyes blazing with draconic fire. “I think you should go and find her before she does something stupid.”

Anduin looked at Wrathion blankly, uncomprehending. “What?”

“I’m no priest, but I can feel magic quite well. While you were on your tirade about her Knightly tendencies, your Light quite loftily refused to touch her like it normally would.”

Anduin stared at Wrathion, and then his eyes widened in horror. He turned on his heel and paced quickly out of the room.

“Where did she go?” he demanded.

“Down towards the servant’s quarters,” he heard faintly as he outright ran down the hall. He took the stairs two at a time, nearly tumbling down them. Wrathion followed behind him, illusion firmly in place.

“Don’t kill yourself on the way there!” Wrathion snapped, easily catching up to Anduin. With no one looking, he was free to jump over the banister and land gracefully after a twenty foot fall.

“Where did she go?” Anduin snapped. “Where would she go?”

“I don’t know, she’s your wife.”

Anduin slammed the door at the bottom of the stairs open. Someone yelped in surprise. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“That way,” a kitchen helper squeaked, pointing with a burly arm towards the training grounds. Anduin took off through the kitchens, nimbly dodging around servants and cooks. Wrathion trailed behind.

“Lucy!” Anduin called, bursting outside. “Luciana!”

“There,” Wrathion said. Anduin looked to where he was pointing. A small copse of trees blocked the wind for a bench set in the middle. In the summer, beautiful flowers and careful shaping would turn it into a lovely garden to sit and relax. Luciana was on the bench, hunched over. Anduin ran to her, breathing hard. He slowed to a halt several paces away. She didn’t look up.

“Lucy,” he panted. “Lucy, I’m sorry.”

She looked over at him, slowly turning her head. Her baleful gaze landed somewhere around his knees. He walked forward, close enough to touch her. He didn’t. He made sure his Light did as it normally would - with gentle hands it would fill the space around him, feeling for magic and strong emotion, gently caressing Luciana and cooling her when she needed it.

“Lucy,” he murmured. Wrathion had stayed by the Keep’s entrance. Anduin hoped he had the sense to keep people from following Anduin. He knew his mad dash through the Keep would start rumours, but there were always rumours. He’d likely be able to very easily twist them into something relatively harmless. He would think about it later.

“You’re right,” Luciana murmured, looking away again, to the grass between her boots. “I’m not a Knight, anymore. I need to stop.”

“Lucy, what I said... it...”

“You were right to say it. It’s stupid and... dangerous to lie to myself. I’m not a Knight. I’m a Queen now and I need to act the part. No more wandering,” she said weakly. Her exhale was shaky. “No more - traipsing.” Her breath caught. He could see her hands squeezing the edge of the bench’s seat. Dust flaked from the stone under her fingers. “You’re right. I’m not a Knight. I need. Take this seriously. My duties.” She turned her head away from him. “I will. I’ll be better. I promise. I know. My responsibility. The only one. I know. I can’t do it anymore. I know. Someone else has to. Chess. I know.”

For a brief moment, shock froze Anduin. She was speaking strangely, haltingly. Not like her normal halting, where sometimes a word caught. Her sentences were fragmenting and few of them were whole. Her voice was shaking, too, and it seemed irregular and too fast. Her shoulders were bunched up, tense, and she was holding herself stiffly, tightly, shaking with the tension of it. He didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know what to do.

Attack. She was having a panic attack.

“Fel,” Anduin swore softly. He reached out with his hands, but seeing her trembling he let his Light touch her first. She jumped slightly, her breath jumping with her. “Don’t run away,” Anduin pleaded. “Lucy, don’t move. Stay here. Please.”

“You’re right,” she said in a rush. “You’re right. I’m not. Anymore.” Each halt was a quick, painful inhale. Anduin laid his hands on her shoulders, feeling her curl down into herself further. He channeled Light through himself, trying to soothe her. It was difficult to see her so broken, and it was his fault, and that cut to his core. “You’re right.”

“No,” he said softly. “Lucy, stop. Just, relax. Deep breaths to calm down. Relax.”

He nearly cried when she let his Light soothe her. She let it loosen her tense muscles, and he felt it under his palms. She let it calm her racing heart, beating like a frenzied war drum. It took several long minutes but the Light soothed her anxiety and panic away. When she sat up slightly, still hunched over with her hands clasped around the edge of the bench - under her thighs, hidden, still nervous - Anduin touched her shoulder.

“Lucy,” he said. “I’m sorry. I hurt you.”

“You were right.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was upset and I took it out on you in a terrible way. I don’t know why I said half the things I did. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You were right. I’m not a Knight anymore.”

“I spoke to you like you’re a child,” he said reproachfully. “I was not right. I was in the wrong. I told you that...” he trailed off. Oh, he’s said so many things to her. Hurtful things. “I implied a lot of things that aren’t true. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged one shoulder. It was jerky, and shaky, and Anduin wished his own Light would burn him for his stupidity.

“I implied that I’m tired of you being a warrior. That’s not true. I called it bullshit. It’s not. Luciana, you are a warrior, and you’re completely right to recall that and be proud of it. I shouldn’t have called it bullshit. And I shouldn’t have spoken to you like a child. I was condescending. I said you weren’t qualified. That’s a lie. I said you couldn’t do the things you are meant to. That was a lie. I said that I wouldn’t allow you to do things, and that was a lie. I treated you like an inferior. But you’re my Queen. My equal. I was wrong, and stupid to say those things. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” she said softly.

“Why? I hurt you.”

It took a moment for her to respond. “I didn’t send a message. You probably worried.”

He looked up, away, breathed in slowly through his nose. She was infuriating sometimes. “You’re apologizing,” he said.

“Yes.”

He clenched his jaw, swallowed, looked down at the back of her head. She’d showered before coming to see him. He slowly ran his fingers over her scalp, through her short hair. It was still damp. “Don’t,” he said.

“You’re right. I’m not a Knight anymore.”

“No, you’re a Queen, and you can do what you damn well please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “You’re married to the High King. Remember? You can do whatever you see fit.”

She inhaled shakily, exhaled the same way. “Sorry,” she said.

“Why?”

“Worried you.”

“You’ll always worry me,” he said. “I’ll always worry. Because I love you. I want you to be safe. But no matter how much I want you to be safe I can’t lock you up in the castle. I know you, Lucy,” he said softly, smiling fondly. “You need to be out. You need to wander. I know that, even if you don’t see it. You need to travel and be... out. I know.”

“I shouldn’t. Knights patrol. Queens.” A sudden, shaking inhale. “Queens stay.”

“Not this Queen,” he said softly, regretting. He regretted speaking to her immediately after her return. He regretted letting his anger and his fear get the better of him. He regretted letting it get to the point where it was strong enough to leave his control. He needed to meditate more, spend time in the Cathedral, confess. It would help, but he’d been too busy. But it wasn’t an excuse. He shouldn’t have spoken to her in such a way. She was incredibly strong, but his words could break her so easily, and he knew it. “This Queen is a warrior. A Knight. The Oathkeeper.”

She sniffed. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m not good enough.”

“What?” he asked, muffled by her hair. He leaned up. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m too rough. I want to do everything myself. I get my hands dirty all the time. It’s not right. Not. Queenly.”

“Luciana,” he said softly. He kept a hand on her shoulder while he walked around the bench, and then he kneeled at her feet. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You are the Queen now. You get to decide what is and isn’t queenly. I promise that if you were to go into the city and ask a thousand people what they thought of when they hear the word Queen, they’ll speak of you admiringly. They’ll speak of how strong a Queen is. How hard she works for her people. How much she’s done for them. How hard she’ll fight for them. How much danger and pain she’s dealt with for them. You are Queen now,” he said. “Look at me, Lucy. My love, look at me.” She looked up after a moment to meet his eyes. “You like to do things yourself, to make sure they’re done right, to make sure people benefit, that changes are made to things that need to be changed. I admire that in you. I love you for it.” He reached up and cupped her cheeks. He rubbed his thumb gently over the scarring on her face. On the right was her famous jaw scars. On the left, a line ran from the inner corner of her eye to her jaw. He leaned up and kissed it, and then her mouth. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of anger and fear and it was full of lies.”

“It’s my work,” she whispered. “When I do things. It’s my work. I want to finish it.”

“I know. Normally I would gladly watch you do it,” he said. “But Westfall became dangerous and I... I’m not willing to live without you, Lucy,” he said softly, sitting back on his heels. His knees would hate him for it. He ignored them. “I won’t lose you. That’s why I recalled you.”

“I know. You made the right choice.” She smiled hesitantly, still hurting, and he kissed her again, softly. “I just. Don’t like that word. We recall stupid Knights and corrupt Captains. Defective things. It rankles.”

“Then I’ll order a return, next time,” he said. “Not a recall.” He watched her for a moment, and then stood with some difficulty. His legs were sore from yesterday’s agility training, started under the advice of one of the Starred Commanders that would soon be his military advisor. Luciana watched him, brows furrowing.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Yesterday’s training. I’ll tell you about it,” he offered when she looked up at him with a questioning tilt to her head that reminded him strongly of Shauna. “Come inside. Let’s have something to eat. You can tell me what you found in Westfall.”

“I should talk to Lars first, let him out,” she said.

“Alright. Then we’ll talk?” Anduin asked.

She stood next to him, head down. “Yes,” she said. Hesitant, and tense. He’d hurt her with his words, and the things he’d said hadn’t fixed it. Not entirely. It would take time to rebuild the trust that he’d broken. Time to reinforce walls that he had helped her build, walls he shouldn’t have broken.

He had hurt her, and she looked at him with fear now. Not of him, precisely. But he’d forgotten that he had the power to break her, and so easily, with little more than spiteful words. Shame flushed hot in his chest and he clenched his teeth to keep back the sudden wetness in his eyes. The caution that filled the space between them now was his mistake and it was his duty to rectify it.

“Luciana,” he said, looking at her. Only a few inches shorter, and thicker and stronger than him, but she seemed so small now. She was making herself a smaller target. Shame, regret flashed through him. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of anger and fear and I didn’t truly mean any of it. You... You are responsible,” he said. “You’re thoughtful and cunning. I know that. And you know that, too. You don’t walk into danger unless it’s necessary, or unless you have good reason to fight. It just... It scares me to think that you could be hurt, and I’m not there to heal you. I know you have healers, but just as you want to protect me yourself, I want to be able to do the same. It’s... reassuring to do it myself. Isn’t that why you do things your way?” he asked. “It’s reassuring to know that it’s being done right. That you’ve done all you can to make it so.”

She nodded. She looked as though she wanted to speak.

“Lucy,” he said, trying to prompt her. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her weight against him. It was a comforting weight, a steadying presence even when she was so... so broken. He’d hurt her so badly, unthinkingly and needlessly. He needed to fix it. It would take time, but he needed to fix it.

“Don’t,” she started. “Hold me down. I need to.”

“Be outside,” he said. “I know. It’s not just outside in the wild, right? You need to be outside the walls. Where you can be free to wander if you need to.”

She nodded. “It’s not. I don’t want to be free, of you.”

“I know. You need to have it open.” He kissed the scar at her temple, petted her hair with a gentle hand and Light he hoped would help ease her pain. Pain he’d caused, so thoughtlessly, so vindictively. He would go to the Cathedral after they spoke of her time in Westfall, and his physical training. He’d confess, find the source of that brutal anger he’d unleashed from somewhere deep, and let it leak out and be replaced with Light. But Light’s mercy, he didn’t even know where it had come from. “I know. I understand. I’m always here for when you come home.”

He felt her sigh, a soft thing, and he tucked his chin over her head and felt her tuck herself down against him, close to his heart. “If you ask me to,” she said, “return, I will. You don’t have to recall me.”

“I’ll remember to do that,” he promised. “You’re my equal, Luciana. Not my subordinate. You are the Queen and you have free reign to do as you see fit. And I know you’ll do well for your people. I will always worry about you. But I let it get the best of me today and I regret it. I regret everything I said to you.”

“You said a lot of things I’ve worried about,” she said against his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be a good Queen. I don’t know if I’ll be smart enough. I might let myself get caught up in stupid things. I have to be better.”

Anduin leaned back, bringing his hands up to hold her face so she couldn’t look away. She looked up at him obediently, hands finding their natural place on his waist, waiting. “You are Queen of Stormwind,” he said softly. “Their mighty warrior-Queen.”

“Haven’t been crowned quite yet,” she said quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. Father’s already stepped back, though he’s waiting to step down. He’s preparing for something, I think. But you are Queen now. The title is a formality.” He smile crookedly, and kissed her forehead. “You will do well. I know you will. You are driven by love, Lucy. It might be fury that gives you your strength, but you fight because you love. You always have. I’ve always seen that in you.”

Luciana did not respond immediately. “I need to be strong,” she said.

“You are strong. That’s why Goldrinn chose you.”

She paused. “I guess you’re right.”

“He chose Varian, and he chose you. I think there’s good reason for that.”

“I love you, you know.” She met his eyes this time, a little better, a little more open from where he’d made her slam shut in a defense that she shouldn’t have had to take against him.

“I do know,” he said with a smile. “And I love you. Don’t believe what I said before. I regret every word. I need to be better, too. I haven’t confessed in months and it’s been piling up in my head. I sank into my work and got stubborn again. I’ll be better.”

“I need to stop trying to do everything myself. You were right in saying that I need to let those qualified do their jobs.”

“Though I shouldn’t have said it the way I did.”

She nodded slowly. “Chain of command. I need to adjust to my new place on it.”

He kissed her. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

“I should go let Lars out. He’s probably climbing the walls.”

“They would tie him down.”

“You think he’d stay down?”

Anduin laughed. “Probably not.”

They walked in silence. Luciana only spoke briefly, and Anduin did not answer. “I do care,” she said softly. He took her hand in his own, and he knew she felt it when his Light washed into her like it normally would, even without prompting.


	69. Some Resolution

Luciana knew that she was avoiding Anduin. She also knew that she had legitimate excuses to do so, and willingly stepped out of the Keep and away from him for the day. She knew she might regret it later, when she was incapable of seeing him, but she needed a bit of space. She needed to not be looking at him, wondering why his Light had reacted so strongly, so negatively to her. She didn’t want to think about it because she knew it would only cause trouble.

Instead, she distracted herself. She wanted to check in on Carill, make sure she was set up comfortably in the Warrior’s Conclave. It could be a rough place to adjust to when you were used to being around civilians. Dumped into it so unceremoniously, Carill would have to get used to not holding back, and not having others hold back.

It wasn’t easy to move around the city, but Luciana left early in the morning before the districts could become too crowded. Accompanying her was Lars, who’d declined to return to Westfall to help Lawrence, and two Royal Guards.

“Heard about the tank you picked up,” Lars said conversationally. “Big fella.”

Luciana glanced at him only briefly, as her eyes flicked to movement in her peripheral. A shop owner opening the door to put up the Open sign. “Carill is not a fella.”

“Big lady.”

“Yes, she’s quite large.”

“Can she move, though?”

“Pretty well.”

“Not good enough to be a Royal Guard.”

“Not yet.”

“You think she’s got the potential?”

“I do.”

Lars nodded to himself.

They walked in silence until they reached the Old Town. “She’s gonna need some good gear,” Lars said. “With all the shit you get into.”

“It’s not my fault trouble likes me,” Luciana said. “But I will take full responsibility for the way I react to it.”

“Both hands?”

“Damn right.”

The image of both her hands wrapped around someone’s neck was generally pleasing to Luciana, but today her reaction was lackluster. “He really reamed you out, huh.”  
Luciana did not verbally reply. Lars did not take her signal to let it go.

“Wasn’t too happy you stayed behind.”

Luciana’s temple jumped.

“Really ain’t happy with the whole situation. Probably took it out on you.”

“Lars.”

“Which ain’t fair, you know. It’s not your fault some people are crazy enough to try and cause trouble for you, of all people.”

“Lars,” she said again, quicker, cutting.

“I get he’s stressed. Being in his position, anyone would be. And he’s got you to worry about, a kid in Kalimdor, two more here.”

“Enough,” she said, looking at him, and if she had them her hackles would be raised and her fangs bared. Her Guards backed away from her, leaving more space between her and them. Too far for her hands to reach them, not too far for them to intervene if there was trouble. She didn’t dismiss them often like Varian did, but they knew by now when it was time to step away.

Lars didn’t even glance at her as he walked. “It’s not fair of him to say that kinda shit to you, you know. I know you love him, and he’s your light and all, but damn, Cap. You gotta stand up for yourself against him. You can’t let him do that shit to you when you know it ain’t right. And he knew it too. He’s only human, Cap. You can’t expect him to always know what’s best, or to always do what’s best. He’s not perfect as you’d like to think he is.”

Her next step had her turning and she grabbed Lars’ lapel with her right hand, hauling him up and shoving him roughly into the blocky stone of the district’s walls. “Enough,” she snarled. “I give you leeway with your speech because of your loyalty and your unique position as my hand and servant. Now is when you should consider shutting the fuck up.”

Lars had the courtesy to lower his eyes. “Sorry, Cap,” he said unapologetically. “You know I’m right, though.”

She tightened her grip in the front of his jacket, and thumped him against the wall. He winced, and his back stiffened. She knew she hadn’t broken anything physically, and by no means had she broken something mentally. But Lars was silent, and she slowly released him, stepping back and taking a slow breath through her nose.

Lars readjusted his jacket to its previously professionally rumpled state, and retook his position at her side. “I know he isn’t perfect,” she murmured. She felt Lars’ gaze on her. “But you don’t know why it hurt so much, and you shouldn’t make that assumption.”

“Sorry, Luce,” Lars said quietly. This time, there was regret in his voice. “Just want you to want to be in a good place.”

“I know.” With her step forward, they continued on their path to the Conclave.

To Luciana’s amusement, Carill was already out in the training yard when they arrived. No fanfare welcomed them – there were a few people who approached Luciana with awe in their eyes, but none dared stepped up to her personally before she acknowledged them. She knew that reasonably she should have greeted them, put her anger at Lars on the back burner, but she didn’t. She was tired from the day before, tired from a night spent awake, listening to Anduin breathe, wanting to move into the snoring room but not wanting Anduin to mistake it for rejection.

“Alno,” she said, with a gesture to the people who’d trailed her into the Conclave. The Royal Guard she’d named broke away to speak with them. It wasn’t the same as interacting with the Princess herself, but it was still pretty good. Royal Guards rarely interacted with the general populace while on duty. This way they could at least peripherally experience being around a Royal, and she didn’t have to deal with them.

“That her?” Lars asked.

Luciana looked to where he’d nodded, and raised a brow. Carill wore only a loose shirt and a pair of rough cotton shorts. On all fours, she had one massive leg extended behind her, lining her up in front of a mechanical contraption that vaguely resembled a cage. A giant cylindrical cushion was in the middle with the name Endermeister written in block letters.

“What is that?” Lars asked.

“A tackler,” Luciana said. “To practice charges, among other things.”

“Huh.”

Carill launched herself forward, and Luciana could feel the weight of the impact in her teeth. A muffled _whud_ echoed in Luciana’s ears, and she grimaced and shook her head out.

“Enjoying yourself?” Luciana called as she approached. She watched as Carill straightened out to her full six feet and four inches, shaking out the shoulder she’d used against the pad.

“Fucking eh,” Carill replied with a bright smile. A scruffy beard was starting on her chin. At Luciana’s raised brow and half smile, she rubbed it sheepishly. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re letting it grow?”

“Yeah, think I will. I kinda like it. Around here I can do, ‘s easier to keep it tracked out proper when you’ve got shinies to look at it into.”

“As long as it’s within regulation.”

“Sure, sure. What, like an inch?”

Luciana shrugged. “You expect me to know? I can’t grow one.”

“Fair call.” Carill nodded to the tackler. “You wanna give it a round-up?”

Luciana eyed the machine. “I’m afraid I might break it, in my current mood.”

“Oh, what’s up?” Carill said, eyes bright. “Trouble in the Golden Gates?”

Luciana looked up at her. Carill’s eyes went from Luciana to Lars, and then back.

“Not meant to ask, I guess. But I’m asking.”

Luciana let Lars wander a ways off, taking the other Royal Guard with him. Carill watched them go, concern furrowing her brow.

“That’s not normally a good sign,” she said easily.

“My husband was not happy with my decisions in Westfall,” she said. “He’s under stress, and it came out against me. I did not sleep last night.”

Carill looked at Luciana, silent, for a moment that stretched long past the point of awkwardness. “Okay,” Carill said slowly. Unease crawled over her face. “Am I missing the pig, here?”

Luciana’s gaze flickered between Carill’s eyes. Slowly, the left corner of her mouth turned down, the other side too stiff to move. “It seems that way,” Luciana said. “I love my husband and I depend on him for comfort and familiarity that usually isn’t afforded to me as a warrior. Normally when there is some issue between us, we discuss it relatively calmly and come to a compromise or conclusion of some sort. When I returned from Westfall, he shouted at me. His irritation with me would have normally resulted in a calmer conversation. This time he lectured me harshly and said hurtful things, and dismissed things that are very important to me. Because he is under so much stress, the river flooded, so to speak. It spilled out onto me.”

“So... he thrashed you,” Carill said.

“More than that. Normally his Light embraces me when I’m in the same space as he. It... reassures me that I’m still welcome.” At this, understanding started to dawn on Carill’s face. “When I saw him after our return, it did not touch me. It.” Luciana stopped, and frowned, and didn’t speak again.

“He cornobbled you,” Carill summarized. “Damn, Princess.” She winced sympathetically.

“... Am I supposed to know that word?” Luciana asked.

Carill’s brow furrowed again. “Cornobble? It’s when you take a fish,” Carill made a fist to help illustrate, “...and slap someone in the face with it.” She swung her fist in a wide arc, imitating the motion.

Luciana nodded slowly. “Cornobble,” she tried. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Wanna fight it out?” Carill offered.

“No,” Luciana said. “I don’t think that will work this time.”

Carill shrugged. “Up to you. Sathoris, and all that.”

“That’s a Darnassian word.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what it means?”

“Yeah. You know yourself.”

“Understanding of oneself.”

“Right. That.”

Luciana nodded again, slowly, as she thought. “What motivates you, Carill?”

“Spite, mostly.”

Taken aback, Luciana leaned away and looked up, both brows raised in mild incredulity. “Spite?” she asked.

“Yeah. The world said fuck you, so I said fuck you right back, I’ll be whatever I wanna be.”

“And that works for you?”

“Like a charmed gourd.” Carill grinned crookedly. “Here am I, ain’t I?”

“I suppose you are,” Luciana said, relaxing into a small half-smile.

“What about you?” Carill asked.

“Me?” Luciana looked away, her eyes fixating on the tackler. A moment later they roved again, catching on the movement of a trio of warriors brawling in a dusty fighting ring. “I want to say something noble, like honour or love. But I think I’m more selfish than that.”

“You think that?” Carill asked.

“Yes. I want my children to be safe. I want my husband to be happy. I want my kingdom to be well. I’m very willing to destroy someone else to see it happen.”

“That ain’t selfish. Is it? I mean, you’re talking about an entire kingdom. That’s a lot of people you’re trying to keep on the green.”

“I am the kingdom. I represent her land and her people. Any failure of mine is a direct reflection of my kingdom. So to think only of my kingdom, I think only of myself.”

“Maybe wedge ‘em, then.” Carill made the motions of driving a wedge into something, and slowly drew her hands apart. “Since, you know, that’s a lot of people.”

Luciana shrugged. “It still remains that most of the things I do, I do because I want to be able to return to my husband. I want to be able to return to his Light, at the end of the day.”

“That’s not too selfish either. I mean, you gotta want somethin’ for yourself, right?” Carill asked. “I do. That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you were here out of spite?” Luciana asked, humour in her voice.

“Yeah, but like, also because you got some good shit and I want some good shit. You know? That’s normal. I think.”

Luciana gave Carill’s forearm a pat. The dark hairs on her arm were matted down with sweat and some browning blood. She seemed unconcerned with it.

“Spite’s also why I’m a she. ‘Cause you know what? Fuck all them dusters who think I can’t decide shit. This is my me, not their me. So fuck ‘em.”

Luciana breathed a laugh. “A good thing to remember,” she murmured. “I’ll leave you to your training, Carill. Work hard.”

“Ain’t no other way, is there?” she asked, smiling cheekily. Luciana gave her arm one more pat before turning to leave. “That’s your you, Princess,” Carill called as she left. “No one else’s. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Carill’s words rang in Luciana’s head as she traversed the grounds of the Warrior’s Conclave. She passed by the outskirts of the Hunter’s Conclave, tucked away against the side of the mountain, hidden under trees. It was safe behind the scent of old markings and a shiver of wild energy. Feral magics crackled faintly under the sound of leaves brushing against the wind. It called to her, tempted her away from her intended path towards SI:7.

The trees did nothing to hamper her. The sudden darkness beneath their branches was only a momentary distraction as her eyes quickly adjusted. Fresh and old scents teased her nose and she unabashedly raised it to sniff the air. She easily slipped between low branches and tall brush, finding strong ground to step around the damp moss and humus. She looked back. There was no trace of her passing.

She moved further in. She could very easily understand why a hunter would retreat to a place like this, why they would gather here. The hustle and noise of the Warrior’s Conclave would keep out anyone not explicitly interested in the silence the hunters preferred. It would have been oppressive, if Luciana’s ears weren’t sensitive enough to pick up the hum of life surrounding her. Insects in the trees and the ground, rodents and birds flitting about around her, trees groaning slowly in the wind, the whisper of life all around. Luciana came to a stop, her right hand on a tree trunk whose side was nearly silver with gravemoss.

She lifted her nose, sniffed again. Though she’d never visited the Hunter’s Conclave before this, she knew its layout. Archers who did not hear the call of the wild had a place in the eastern corner of the Conclave. Though they were not strictly hunters, they practiced one of the crafts, and were welcomed so long as they did not disturb the fragile peace.

Luciana changed direction. She moved more swiftly, not hurried but quicker than before. There was a scent in the air that she knew. It couldn’t have wandered so far down from the Keep, uninterrupted through the scent markings and the rotting plant matter. It had to have come from close by.

The trees were tall enough to rival the Keep, grown with druidic magics to shield those hunters who could not handle harsh daylight. Luciana wondered what was hiding in their higher branches, out of sight. 

Her eyes easily picked out a trail in the woods and she stepped onto it. It led her through the trees, abruptly widening into a clearing.

The thud of an arrow meeting its target caught her attention. Two archers practiced side by side - a male pandaren, round at the waist and thick with muscle, slowly drew back an arrow. It was their arrow she’d heard hitting the target. He, her mind wanted to say, but she remembered Carill and refrained.

The other archer was Anduin. She held still at the edge of the clearing, watching the pandaren, but her eyes were on Anduin. His skin was burnished bronze under the choppy sunlight streaming through the trees. His hair, shining gold in the light, was tied back and up, looped through the elastic band and pinned back from his handsome brown face.

His eyes were focused, open and clear. His back was straight, posture loose, at ease. His jaw was not clenched, his lips not thinned with aggravation. The cords in his neck did not stand out, his hands were not overly tight on the bow or his fingers on the arrow. He drew back, slowly, and released.

Luciana’s eyes easily followed the arrow as it flew. It cut a path through the air, nearly straight, until its razor head met the target. Thick linen over straw and wood, it slipped into the painted inner circle as easily as she would slip a blade between ribs. She watched as he drew another arrow from the quiver at his hip, easily accessible, meant for practice.

The pandaren lowered their bow, and turned their head to look at Luciana. She met their gaze, tilted her head almost questioningly. Did they dare to object to her presence? Here, where she belonged, surrounded by the Wild? Here, where Anduin was?

They didn’t. Instead, they bowed their head to her and held it an appropriate length according to pandaren custom. Anduin loosened his posture, the arrow still nocked against the gut string of his bow. He looked from the pandaren to Luciana.

She straightened; rolled her shoulders back from where she’d lowered them, let her arms rest at her sides, stepped down from the thick root she’d been crouched on like a prowling panther. Anduin watched as she sat on it instead, rested her elbows on her knees, and watched him.

Slowly, he turned back to the target. He lifted his bow, drew back the arrow, and breathed in. She could, if she concentrated, hear his heart beating in his chest. She saw his stomach move with his breathing. He released the arrow, and it joined its mate in the heart of the target. 

The pandaren left without a word, their bare feet – paws? She was never sure what to call them – whispering through the grass. It was tall around the perimeter of the clearing. Only the shooting range was kept clear. The rest was left to grow as it saw fit.

Relaxed, slow, Anduin took an arrow from his quiver. He nocked it, raised his bow, and inhaled deeply through his nose. A sudden breeze teased some of his hair out of its bindings, and he loosened the arrow, holding it and the bow with his left hand. With his right, he reached up to brush his hair away from his eyes.

Luciana gently drew his hair back. She heard his heart speed through a handful of beats before slowing, heard adrenaline and blood rush in his veins – he hadn’t seen her move. She pulled the tie out of his hair, drew it all back with careful fingers. Anduin waited patiently while she worked.

Satisfied, she stepped back, retreated to her perch. Anduin drew the arrow back and raised his bow in one smooth motion. He breathed in through his nose, and released. The arrow met its mark an inch south of his previous one.

Silently, he drew an arrow from the quiver.


	70. Old Stomping Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy got a bit fucked up from that lecture.

The Amadeus manor had not changed much since Luciana had last visited. In fact, it hadn’t changed at all. Only its residents had.

Jillian greeted her at the door with hard eyes. “Princess,” she said quietly.

“Jill,” Luciana said. She lowered her head slightly, a respectful nod. This was no longer her place – it was Jillian’s home now, and Luciana owed her that respect.

Jillian stepped aside, allowing Luciana entrance. The inside of the manor was exactly as she remembered, but the scents permeating it were much sharper, much more defined. Likely, it was only her perception of them that had changed. She paused for a moment, picking out Victoria’s scent.

“How is she?” she asked quietly.

“Doing better. Recovery’s going well,” Jillian replied. “She doesn’t like the wheelchair, but she needs it. She likes being out in the stables.”

“With the dogs?”

“Yeah. We have to be careful with her out there, still, with them all climbing on her. But Pop and Tony keeps ‘em in line.”

“Good.” Luciana lingered in the vestibule. She eyed the closet she knew was meant to hold her coat, as she was now a guest. Navy blue, double breasted with a rich black fur collar. The purple satin that lined the inside showed, as she had left it open. The weather was not cool enough for her to truly need the coat, but she wore it anyway, more as a symbol than anything. These were not the colours of the House of Amadeus. They were the colours of Stormwind, of Wrynn. Times had changed and she had to show it.

“She’s in the den, if you wanna see her,” Jillian offered.

Luciana hesitated. “Is Bann here?”

“In his study.” Jillian’s eyes narrowed slightly. There was a crinkle to her nose that Luciana recognized. A remnant from spending so much time in her worgen form.

“Please let Victoria know that I wish to visit with her,” Luciana said.

It made Jillian pause. “A bit formal, isn’t it?” she asked. Luciana had only to look at her and raise a brow before Jillian understood. With a sigh that seemed too heavy for her slim human form, she nodded. “I’ll let her know. Please feel free to use the lounge, Princess. I’ll let Bann know you want to see him.”

“Thank you.” Luciana nodded absently. The colour of the floor was off, just a shade, just enough for her to see where booted and bare feet had trampled over many years. There was a portrait of Frederic hanging in the hall. She scanned it as she walked by. It was painted by Ophelia.

“Must feel pretty off, huh?” Jillian asked. She kept her voice quiet, low. Respectful to Luciana’s mood.

Luciana sighed quietly. “I’ll be in the lounge,” she murmured. “I would prefer to speak to Bannister in his office.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Luciana didn’t take a seat in the lounge. She stood before the hearth, unlit, her hands clasped behind her back. Even now, parade rest was a comfortable position for her to take. At ease, formal but not unapproachable. She fell into it automatically as her eyes tracked across the mantle. Some photographs, taken with a gnomish camera. They were formal, as the lounge was a public space where visitors could stay.

The great grandfather clock ticked in the corner of the room. She turned her head to look at it. She’d hidden inside it as a child, both in play and in escaping. It seemed impossible now. She’d grown far too much.

The airflow in the lounge changed and she half-turned to look at the doorway. A house servant stood within it, blocking it, head held high. “Lord Bannister Amadeus,” he announced, bowing and stepping back to allow Bannister entrance. “Her Royal Highness, Princess Luciana.”

“Hello,” Luciana said softly.

“Thank you,” Bannister murmured to the servant. He closed the door behind him. “Luciana. It’s good to see you again. I know you wanted to see me in my office, but it’s an absolute mess in there right now with Father’s retirement and my taking over.”

Luciana nodded once. Sharp, jerky. Bannister frowned. “I came to see Victoria,” Luciana said. “I’d like to speak with her about possible prosthetics.”

“You couldn’t tell her yourself?”

“You’re the head of Amadeus, now. This is your manor.”

His frown deepened, and he came close enough for her to smell his aftershave, even without her sensitive nose. “I get it,” he said. His voice was soft, almost comforting. “She’s safe here with me. You’re welcome here as well, Princess.”

“Thank you.” She nodded.

“But you’re still my sister. The one I brought to the Academy, who brought back sugared nuts and pies and books when she visited.”

Her throat hurt. “I can’t be that, Bann,” she whispered. “Not anymore. I have to let go or it’s going to strangle me.”

“You sure about that?” he asked. “You’re not an Amadeus anymore, but you’re still our sister. You can hang onto us as long as you like. We’re not going anywhere. Besides, Jill and Vic are here now, too.”

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t keep losing things, Bann. Once was enough.”

“You never lost us.”

“I did, and you know why I did.”

His frown returned. “That was your own choice,” he said. “You didn’t have to let us go. Amadeus, yes. But not us. We’re still here and you’re still our sister.”

She breathed in, slowly, and exhaled through her nose. The pressure in her throat eased. “Bannister,” she said. “There’s only so much I can do. I’m not invincible. There’s only so many things I can handle before it starts to get to be too much.”

“What’s happening?” Bannister asked. “Luce, I’m serious. You’re still my little sister and I still worry about you. What’s going on that’s put that look on your face?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him anything and he knew it. “I can’t hold on to everything. I need to let go.”

“We’re not the past, you know,” he said. “We’re still here.” He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She could have very easily pulled away, even without the frenetic, wild strength so typical to her kind. She clutched at the back of his shirt, tucked her chin over his shoulder. They were about the same height, and though she was wide and strong and worn down, she felt younger. “I do understand,” he said. “We’re not going to pull you. But you don’t have to drop us, either.”

“Things used to be so simple,” she said. “I had you all. I had my squadron.”

“You still do.”

“It’s different, Bann. It’s just. It couldn’t survive, the way it was.”

“You don’t have to go it alone, Luciana,” he said, a gentle admonishment as he pulled back. He gave her upper arms a squeeze, and held her there. “You’re at the top, but you don’t have to be alone. If anything, you now have the privilege and the power to pull in as many people as you’d like.”

“That would be quite the change.”

“It’s not like there’s a recent example for you to draw from,” he said, cracking a smile. “You’re in charge now, aren’t you? So take advantage. Who cares if people think you’re too close to your squad? Who cares if people think you should be haughty, and aloof? Screw ‘em. You’re in charge, not them. Besides, if civilians see that even you need friends, people you can trust, then they’ll just see themselves reflected in you. You just need to do what you need. Everything else will fall into place.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Says the Lady Knight Captain Princess Berserker Queen,” Bannister laughed, giving her arms a solid pat before releasing her. “Come on. While you’re here you can pick another dog.”

“Shauna didn’t die,” Luciana said. “Unless I’ve really lost it.”

“No, but she’s getting old, isn’t she? Figured you might want to let her relax, stop with the cross-country trekking. Maybe hand her to the twins for a nice retirement.”

“How is the breeding?” she asked, following Bannister out of the lounge. He opened the door for her, as he was supposed to for the Princess, and let her set the pace.

“It’s going very well. We’ve further refined the traits of the boxer terrier, and made them a bit bigger. Generally, their personality is what you see in Shauna, but there are some variations. We’re also trying to get a bit more of a hunter into the line. Your dog is good, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not really a hunter.”

“Not really, no.”

“So I thought you’d like to have a tougher dog with you, just in case.”

She nodded. “You have a new litter?”

“They’re currently seven weeks. But I’d like you to look at the older ones, first.”

“The younger ones don’t really have their personalities figured out yet, huh?”

“Not really. You know how it is.”

As they approached the stables, Luciana heard the distinctive sound of puppies. “Is Vic out here?” she asked.

“Probably. You know how she is with dogs.”

“Yeah.” Luciana felt a smile curl the corner of her mouth.

Luciana did know how Victoria was with dogs. She’s explained it, once, long ago, long enough ago that Luciana had nearly forgotten. Dogs, Victoria said, were almost human. They could press against you, a solid body and warmth and friendliness and a strong bond, without expectation. It didn’t matter how much you hugged and kissed and loved on a dog. It never got awkward. Humans, on the other hand, were weird about it. Hugging a dog was almost as good as hugging a person, without any awkwardness or threat.

With that thought in mind, Luciana approached the hound master’s stables. “Victoria?” she called out.

“Luciana!” came the joyous reply. “I thought you’d be dropping by soon.”

Luciana peered over the wooden half-door. Victoria was laid out on the ground, her wheelchair forgotten in the corner, with a number of pups on her chest, crawling over the stumps of her legs, nipping at her exposed ears and fingers, and sniffing at her hair.

“You look pretty happy down there,” Luciana said, a natural smile curling the side of her face that responded to such soft things.

“I am!” Victoria replied, smiling widely. “C’mon down, the water’s fine.”

Luciana hardly glanced at Bann before nimbly vaulting over the barrier. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, carefully avoided the little paws skittering around the stall, and sat next to Victoria. Her lap was immediately occupied with puppies, and soon her hands were as well.

“I’m going to go find Matthew,” Bannister said. Luciana felt his gaze leave her, and listened as the sound of his footsteps faded.

“How’ve you been?” Luciana asked quietly.

“It was rough,” Victoria said. “Lot’s changed. I can’t do a lot of shit on my own, but some stuff I’ve figured out how to get it done anyway. And these guys help.” She reached over to pat one of the three pups in Luciana’s lap, resting her arm on Luciana’s thigh. The casual gesture struck Luciana, and she felt breathless for a long moment. Her throat hurt again, and she blinked rapidly, her brow furrowing as she looked back at the pups. One jumped up abruptly to lick at her chin. She jerked away, making an annoyed sound, and the pup settled back down for the moment. She could feel its little claws against her thigh. “They don’t care. Nothing’s changed for them, except there’s less of me to cuddle.”

Luciana looked over. She wondered if Victoria would appreciate some sort of gesture in return, some reassuring, friendly touch. “And are Des and Jill giving you the appropriate amount of cuddles?” Luciana asked.

Victoria chuckled, displacing one of the puppies on her chest. “Oh, no!” she said, her face falling dramatically. “No, it’s okay, come back...”

Luciana reached over her, stretching easily to scoop the puppy up in one wide hand. She deposited it on Victoria’s chest, and the resulting smile was one of absolute delight.

“Hey, cutie-poo,” Victoria cooed. “Hey goober.” The pup’s tail wagged and it wobbled between the mounds of her breasts to nuzzle her face. “Yeah, they’re good to me. Patient. Jill snaps at me when I get stubborn, which I need, I think. And Des is a sweetheart, always asking what he can do, do I need anything, do I want to come along...” She smiled as she stroked the puppy’s head gently. “Your ears are like silk,” she said in a baby voice.

“They’re treating you well?”

“Yeah. We’re all good over here. Still some stuff to work out, you know, being three and all. Jill gets huffy every time anyone mentions marriage.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Probably feels awkward. Des, I know, he’s worried about cutting me out accidentally.”

“You could have a three-way marriage,” Luciana offered. “If you wanted.”

Vic shrugged her right shoulder. Her breast jiggled as a result.

“Are you wearing a bra?” Luciana asked.

“No. Why?” Victoria didn’t look at her.

“You know I don’t make assumptions often,” Luciana said. “I don’t need to. Usually I understand things immediately. But I don’t want to offend you.”

Victoria snorted.

“Right,” Luciana said, smiling again. “Point taken. If you’d like a breast reduction, or an outright removal, I can put you in priority.”

“Serious?” Vic asked, looking up at Luciana.

“Yes. You recall with whom you are speaking?”

Victoria snorted a laugh. “Man, you’re full of good ideas today. Three-way, breast removal... Nice stuff.”

“I have few friends. In my position, it’s not always safe. But I take care of my friends.” Luciana leaned down to gently kiss one pup’s head. “Whatever you need to be happy, I’ll have it done.”

“Your will be done,” Victoria intoned.

“Oh, not that old shit,” Luciana groaned.

Victoria sighed. “So, what’re you setting up to do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re tying up the strings. Prepping. What for? Where’re you going? Is this like when you went to the Exodar to get Freya?”

Luciana’s brow furrowed and she looked down.

“Oh, yeah, Prince Anduin talked to me about that when he got back home,” Victoria said conversationally. “He needed a second opinion.”

“Has he spoken to you about many things?”

“Mostly you,” Victoria said. “You can be hard to read, even for me sometimes. So we all put our heads together when we need to.” She rubbed the sides of a puppy’s face, to its apparent joy - its eyes closed and it leaned its head into her left hand, grunting rhythmically to show its pleasure.

Luciana reached over to gently rub at the inside of the puppy’s ear. It leaned into her finger, much like Shauna tended to. Her fingers brushed against Victoria’s briefly. Luciana smiled softly. “So there’s less of you to cuddle?”

“Yeah, and also I don’t have cold toes at night.” She looked up, smiling cheekily. “Though I suppose you’re not so interested in our sleeping arrangements, huh?”

Luciana shrugged. “If you want me to hear it, I will.”

Victoria shrugged. “Not really important.”

“Would you be interested in prosthetics?”

“Fake legs?” she frowned. “Like, wood? Or metal? They’re kinda... clunky, yeah?”

“I may have accidentally created something of an arms race for prosthetics a little while ago,” Luciana said, for once a bit of sheepishness in her bearing. “The old ones are clunky, but the newer models are very promising. The closer to the original, the better, they say.”

“Who’s they?”

“A tiny little group of people in the Dwarven District,” Luciana replied. “They call themselves biomages. Say they can work the human body like a regular mage would a spell. They’re working with another tiny little group calling themselves biochanics. The same sort of principle, but their specialty seems to be combining organic and inorganic matter to replace lost body parts.”

“Like healers, the biomages.”

“Except they don’t heal, necessarily, and they use arcane.”

“Huh.”

“If you’re interested I can put you in contact with them. Better yet, I can introduce you to the chair of the VetCen committee.”

“Might be nice,” Victoria admitted. “We gonna see you again or are you tying us up too?” she asked, leaning up to kiss at a puppy’s face.

Luciana inhaled, counted the seconds, and exhaled. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a lot to hold on to.”

“It’s easy, actually. Just kinda.” Victoria reached over and gave Luciana’s knee a pat. “There you go.”

They were both silent for a time. Luciana broke it. “Bann’s taking an awfully long time to find Matthew,” she said with a wry grin.

“You need more hugs,” Victoria replied.

“I’ll get right on that.”

“It’s okay, you know,” Victoria said, looking up at Luciana. Her gaze was earnest, and Luciana couldn’t resist it. “It’s okay to need that kind of stuff. I had to figure it out when I got here. It’s okay to need hugs.”

“People really seem to enjoy imparting words of wisdom on me,” Luciana sighed. “Carill advised me to remember that this is my me. You said it’s okay to need hugs. Lars wants me to want me to be in a good place.”

“I think I like Carill,” Victoria said. “That’s your new tank, yeah?”

“She’s not been sworn in yet.”

“She will be,” Victoria said. “You like her.”

“Yes. I do. She’s... a little odd, but I do like her.”

“What’s odd?”

“She doesn’t understand things.” Luciana shrugged. “I don’t know if it was her upbringing, or what. Some things that should be obvious... aren’t.”

“Takes all kinds,” Victoria said. “Drop me in my chair?”

Luciana gently removed the puppies from her lap, stood, and smoothly picked Victoria off the straw-covered ground. She deposited her and the puppy Victoria held gently in the chair and plucked some straw from Victoria’s scraggly hair. She pulled Luciana her into a hug, made awkward only because of Luciana’s height.

“Let’s go see those dogs Bann wanted you to look at,” Victoria said. “Give Shauna a break.”

Luciana held Victoria’s head gently in her hands, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The colour of a Bronzebeard ceremonial onyx cannon. “Let me know what you want to be done about what we discussed,” Luciana said, straightening and moving to push the chair. Victoria held the puppy with gentle hands. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Let’s go see those doggies,” Victoria replied.


	71. Wolf-eyes

The castle was never silent, but in the early hours of the morning, sometimes Luciana could find quiet. She used this quiet to relax. She breathed slowly, counting each exhale. Some part of her was aware that each could prove to be her last. She enjoyed the cool night air that wandered in through her balcony doors, thrown open to relieve the heaviness of the air in the Keep.

She sat at her desk, but she didn’t work. Anduin was asleep in the other room and she didn’t want to wake him when the frustration of facing down an impending coronation with a mule-headed old King invariably made her snarl and throw her chair.

Lars sat to her right, somewhere off in the shadows. He was almost a part of the room, hardly noticeable in his efforts to be discreet, to stay out of her way but still remain within her orbit. She could scent him out, the familiar leather and poison and the hint of decay that seemed to follow him. She’d become accustomed to it, likened it to the silvery moss that grew on graves left to rot.

Luciana opened her eyes. They adjusted quickly to the dark room, lit only by what little moonlight filtered in through the balcony doors. She inhaled deeply, held it, and when she released it she relaxed her shoulders and neck, and leaned her head against the back of her chair.

“You’ve been preparing for something.”

She turned her head to look at Lars. He’d murmured to her and she’d missed the first two or three words, her mind wandering. She guessed what he’d said.

“Tying up loose strings,” he continued in the same quiet voice, almost a whisper. “What’s coming?”

She looked away, to the far wall where the door to her bedchamber stood between her and Anduin. She couldn’t hear his heart beating, but she knew well enough that he was fine.

Lars leaned forward, as though enraptured by her breathing. Her brow furrowed and she looked at him, copying his movements, leaning against the left armrest of her chair to angle her shoulders towards him.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice low, murmuring out of her chest like the distant rumble of thunder.

“You feel something, though,” he insisted, his eyes wide to take in the weak moonlight. “You can feel something coming. Something big, right?”

Luciana’s eyes flickered across his hunched form as she thought. Absently, her gaze traced down the line of his arm, down to the floor, and then back up to his face.

She looked away, discomfited. She did feel something. It was likely just Varian’s own anxiety that was riling up the entire city, herself included, but... she had to acknowledge Lars’ words. Something in the air was different, or in the pressure of the night over the city. But she was loath to say it out loud.

A rustle in the wall near where Anduin slept caught her attention. A wallcrawler, she identified. Likely making their rounds to ensure their charges were safe, listening in and checking the air with arcane tools meant to identify magic.

“Yes,” Luciana murmured. “Something is coming. But I don’t know what.”

“You and the King, you both see it coming,” Lars whispered, the words rushing out of him. “With those wolf-eyes of yours.”

Her gaze snapped to Lars, and he didn’t cower - he never cowered, not before her - but he fell silent. Expectant. She stared at him, seeing the shine of his eyes, the faded scar on his brow. “What do you see when you look at me, Lars?” she asked.

“Death,” he whispered slowly. Reverent.

She held his gaze for a long moment and he did not look away. “Something is coming,” she murmured. “But what, I don’t know.”

“That’s why the King’s been waiting,” Lars said, half a question, half an explanation. “He’s worried that whatever’s coming will be too much for a new King and Queen to handle. He wants to be ready. I heard him and the Prince, discussing it.”

“You eavesdropped on them?” Luciana asked, a smile quirking the left side of her mouth.

Lars was unapologetic. “Yeah. I heard them. The King’s spooked, feels something in the air. Khadgar was worried about Gul’dan’s escape from Hellfire and that’s gotten under the King’s skin. He’s stalling. The Prince isn’t happy about it.”

Luciana nodded slowly. “He’s worried about the whispers, too,” she said. “About what happened in Westfall.”

“The kid?” Lars asked.

“Yes. You did good there,” she praised quietly, and he sat up, chest expanding with a sudden breath. “You saw something I didn’t, and acted on what you knew my will would be.”

“Always,” he said quickly. “I’m always with you.”

“I know. Anduin finds it creepy,” she said, the smile growing as she chuckled. “But I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?” she said, his gaze always on her face.

“No.”

“You’re always with me,” she continued. “More than the others. They are loyal, and I know them, but you...” She heard at he held his breath. The breeze fell for a moment, leaving the room in a sudden, still silence. “You know me. You’ve seen every side and haven’t flinched from any of them.”

“Never,” he breathed.

She sighed, shifted in her chair to lean back comfortably into the cushioning. “Something is coming,” she said quietly. “And we have to be ready. I don’t know what it is. I need more information. I need to know who my enemies are.”

“I’ll go.”

“No, I need you with me. Shaw will take care of the investigations. He has plenty of agents for the footwork, that’s nothing special.” She brushed away his offer with her hand, lazily waving it away. “You’ll stay with me. You, at least, I know I can trust with my neck.”

A memory, brief and flitting, came to her. Lying in a cot in a Darnassian tent, her jaw mangled and healed and still swollen, and Lynch’s hand gently brushing the raw red lines running down her jaw and neck. The acceptance of her squad mate had helped her sleep past her discomfort, that time. A small upturn at the corner of her mouth, and she let the memory go.

“You’re gonna go ahead with your plans?” he asked. “The negotiations, the Barrens.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“All of you are.”

“You won’t be the Queen there if the King keeps holding on like this.”

“Anduin has the power and influence to dethrone him, at this point. He doesn’t want to, but we may have to force Varian’s hand. We’ve already made the decision and things have gone too far to recant. It has to go through soon, or the kingdom will stall.”

“It’s always about him, with you. But you know you could overtake him.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Why?”

She looked at Lars, almost questioning. “I don’t need to take control away from him. He’s doing just fine.”

“But you could,” he insisted. “If you really want to do something, nothing can stop you. Not him, not the King, not Tyrande or Khadgar.”

“You have such faith in me,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Then believe me when I say that I don’t need to do it.”

He fell silent, watching her as he always did.

With a sigh, she stood from her chair, stretching her arms out to her sides and rotating her shoulders. Lars stood at the same time, ready to follow behind her. He had her six in the dark, a boot knife that no one ever saw coming. She moved without acknowledging him, knowing that he would follow until she ordered him to stay behind - and even then, it was likely that he’d see her need for privacy.

“Your Majesty,” a guard greeted quietly when Luciana opened the door to the hallway. “Going out?” he asked.

“Yes. Alone.”

The guard watched as Luciana left the antechamber to her office, Lars trailing behind her in silence. “I thought she said alone?” he said, turning to his partner.

She shrugged. “That’s the creepy one what’s always following her. We just let him be.”

When Luciana returned to the bedchamber she shared with Anduin, Lars stopped at the door. He waited for her to be safely within her rooms before turning to disappear to wherever it was he slept at night. No one stopped him. The guards recognized him as one of Luciana’s personal guard, and he was given the proper level of respect and authority owed to that position.

Anduin slept through her return, snoring softly from where he’d rolled into the center of the bed. Luciana’s eyes were on him while she undressed, leaving her naked in the dark room. The same sense of discomfort crept up her spine while she watched him sleep. There had been something strange about him that day, when she’d returned from Westfall. He’d held himself differently, had an odd look in his eyes she’d never seen before. He’d apologized, and returned to normal, but she’d been watching him ever since. She’d told Lars to trust in her judgment of Anduin, but she would have to confirm it first.

Like a dog before an arcane illusion, she backed away uneasily, into the snoring room. She would rest there tonight. Last night, next to Anduin, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes something had crawled over her skin. Like the clammy hand of a corpse. 

Something was off, and something was coming, but she didn’t know what either of those things were.

She’d take Lars’ advice, despite the fact that it hadn’t been given as such. Wolf-eyes. She would consult the wolf and see what answers he was willing to give her.


	72. Ready for Deployment

Carill had never thought that she’d know what she was missing. How could you know what you were missing when you didn’t have it to know about it? 

Regular meals, a safe place to sleep, good clothes, sturdy boots, a mirror... They were all hers now, and she could have more whenever she wanted. All she had to do in return was learn how to be a warrior proper.

It was easy. She had the instincts for it, the dull, throbbing fury behind her eyes that made her see red, made her forget how to feel pain, made her roar and fight. The trainers, they were only helping her harness it and figure out how to use it for real combat. Combat against dozens of enemies, with only a shield and a mace. She liked the mace better than the sword. Something about sending its crushing weight into the ground with denting force was so much more satisfying than the sleekness of the sword.

She knew why she was here, why she had all these nice things now. Luciana had brought her here to see if she had the potential to defend a warrior queen, to adapt to the roiling sea of fury surrounding that Queen, inherent to her presence. Carill would do it. She’d decided that she would be a Queen’s Guard, and eat next to the Queen, and she was gonna do it.

Carill had been absolutely delighted to learn that few things could stand up to a rampaging shield-bearer and she’d taken to her new position with glee. She hadn’t actually been able to kill anyone in the Conclave, as it was forbidden, but she’d come close a few times. She couldn’t wait to get back into it.

The Conclave was a nice enough place. Carill still wasn’t used to getting hit with so many people at once - there were a lot of warriors in the Conclave. All of them seemed more experienced, more knowledgeable, more than Carill, and it bugged the shit out of her. Just because she was from Westfall didn’t mean she was less. Luciana knew it, too. It was why she’d chosen Carill over all of these Stormwinders and Redridgen and Duskwooden and Elwynners.

Carill was gonna be better than all of them. It still pissed her off, though, and she vented her fury with her old friend the tackling machine. The Endermeister tackler had been broken a few times in the past months while Carill learned how to regulate her strength and weight according to her target. It still stood up to her furious charges, and that’s what mattered.

She used her left shoulder today, letting her right arm rest a bit, and the result was a _whud_ that shook the entire machine. She backed off, shaking her arm out, and lined herself up for another go. It was therapeutic to hit things. Also, fun. She bent her knees, hands outstretched as though she were holding a shield and mace, and she inhaled, filling her chest. With all the force of a forest bear crashing through the underbrush, she smashed into the machine, nearly toppling it.

She growled, righted it, and went to check the spikes. They were meant to keep it in the ground, but after repeated use they sometimes came loose. Carill used her heel to dig two of them back into the packed dirt, and lined herself up for another go.

She stopped before she could start, hearing shouting from beyond the Conclave. Probably a fight. She shrugged it off, and crouched down again. No, that wasn’t the sound of a fight. Were they here for her? Carill racked her brain, trying to think of what she’d been doing for the past week or so. No, nothing illegal. Some stupid things, but nothing illegal.

“Get me a courier, now!”

She recognized that voice. Shaw, the spymaster of the SI:7. He worked for the Royal House, therefore Luciana, therefore Carill was involved. Sort of. She took off at a jog to the SI:7 headquarters.

“We’re not allowing access to anyone right now,” she heard as she rounded the walls out of her Conclave. “Spymaster’s orders.”

“My shit’s inside!” someone protested. “And my pet!” A hunter, probably. The bow over their shoulder confirmed it.

“I’m sorry. Try calling for them, maybe they’ll come out on their own.” One of the five rogues barring the entrance to the SI:7 was speaking. Three of them had their faces completely covered - regular agents, Carill guessed.

“Hey,” Carill called, her voice booming over all others. “What’s going on? He’s sending a courier to the King?”

“There’s no access to SI:7 buildings or information right now,” the rogue repeated, sizing Carill up warily. She was big enough to merit it, a head and shoulders over most and rounded with muscle and weight to match it.

“I know the Princess,” Carill said. “It’ll be my business soon enough. What’s going on?” There was a murmur of noise around her, curiosity and annoyance. She ignored it.

“Tell us,” the hunter said firmly. “We should all know. We’re all Stormwind people. If it’s the business of the House, then it’s our business too. Isn’t what they’re always saying?”

“Tell us!” someone echoed.

The rogue sighed through her nose, sharing a look with one of the masked agents. “No,” she said, looking straight at the hunter. She looked at Carill next. “No,” she repeated. “Spymaster’s orders. You have a problem with it, come back when he’s here and talk to him about it.”

Carill was tempted to simply shove her way into the SI:7 headquarters, but it occurred to her that she could much more easily get the information from Luciana or one of her personal guards than from these poisoned knives.

She left the Conclave, still shirtless, and started the short walk to the castle. Chiding herself, she broke into a swift jog. She still needed to work on her stamina, the trainers had told her. She needed to be able to run for six hours and then take down a party of five. She was still stuck at four hours and three opponents.

She was breathing heavily by the time she reached the stairs to the Keep. With a groan, she wiped a hand down her face, using it to scrunch her short beard and check for bugs and dirt, and then started up the stairs two at a time.

When she stopped for a breath at the front gates, she was panting hard. She could feel the eyes of the Royal Guards inspecting her, curious. “The Princess,” Carill said. “Where?”

“Who’re you?” one asked. Short, probably less than one hundred and eighty pounds. Stocky at the shoulders, though. 

“Carill.”

“Oh. She’s not in the castle at the moment. Not sure where she ended up.”

“She’s got the creepy one with her,” his partner added. Much taller, a bit slim. “Probably out in the back fields somewhere again.”

“She doing that a lot?” Carill asked, regaining her breath quickly.

The taller one shrugged, and Carill walked into the Keep. Obviously, she was allowed, since no one stopped her.

There was a ruckus in the throne room. She hurried up the incline, past numerous guards and some rooms she didn’t know the purpose for, nor did she really care. Carill could see easily over the heads of most of the people in the crowd. Only the elves and the draenei were taller than her, and of course, the worgen. 

In the center of the throne room stood the King. He had a snarl on his face, his nose and mouth crinkling dangerously. Carill expected a flash of teeth, and when the King spoke, she got it. An actual conversation was being held. An impressive feat for an enraged warrior.

“This is not the time or the place for this, Anduin!” the King growled. “We have to get ready. Orders must be sent out...”

“There are two of us and one of you,” the Prince said, calm in the face of a storm. But his voice was just as dangerous as the King’s snarling face. “But you are right. This isn’t the place for this discussion. Lucy should be here, as well.”

“I’m just trying to find her,” Carill called out, and instinctively flinched back when the King’s furious yellow eyes landed on her. “The fel’s going down?”

The King laughed at that, but no one else joined him. Not with those teeth bared like that. “Go and find her, then,” he said. It was an order, directed very clearly at Carill.

She turned on her heel like she’d been shown by her tutor, a retired Royal Guard. She knew the layout of the castle and most of its grounds, and found her way to the rear fields easily enough. When she walked through the doors to the outside, she looked around to orient herself before taking off. There was a training pit and archery ranges to her right, and a little park to the left. She went there first. It seemed private, something Luciana might like if she’d been disappearing out here a lot.

Carill could hear a murmured conversation as she approached the tree cover. She couldn’t see inside them, and called out to announce herself like she’d been taught by her tutor. “Princess! It’s Carill!”

The voices quieted, and after a moment, Luciana called out. “Come.”

Carill ducked under a low hanging tree branch and came to a stop in front of Luciana. She was sitting on a stone bench, leaning back, her left arm propped up by the elbow so she could rest her chin on her fist. She seemed relaxed. She wasn’t.

“There’s a ruckus going down in the throne room,” Carill said. “And the SI:7’s all riled up. No one’s allowed in, spymaster’s orders.”

Luciana frowned, her eyes searching Carill’s form. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Not wearing one.”

“Why?”

“Too hot when I’m tackling.”

“You should wear one anyway. It’s proper form.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Some things will require a shirt.”

“I’ll wear one then.”

She nodded slowly, and stood. When she got to her feet it was smooth, graceful, and Carill was a mite envious at the physical power displayed with that effortlessness. Lars, Carill recognized, stood in Luciana’s shadow and followed her. Carill eyed him as he passed her, but he didn’t even glance at her, so focused was he on the Princess.

Carill joined him in trailing along behind her back to the throne room. When people saw her, they quieted and made room, bowing their heads. It made it a lot easier for Carill to get through, too. Lars even managed to disappear without her noticing.

“My Lord?” Luciana called, and the King turned to look at her.

“War room,” he said shortly, and the crowds gave him a wide berth. Carill saw Luciana look at the Prince questioningly, and then they both left the throne room in the King’s wake.

“She knew.”

Carill looked down. “Where’d you come from?” she asked.

Lars shrugged noncommittally. “She felt something coming.”

“What, though?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Lemme know when you find out.”

“Why did you come here?” Lars asked, looking up at Carill. His eyes, she found, were just a little too wide. A little too bright.

“Well, next to her’s a good place to be, ain’t it?”

Lars’ eyes flicked left to right, between Carill’s eyes. “Get ready for deployment,” Lars said before turning to join the crowds again. Carill could only track him for his first few steps before he vanished into the roiling mass of bodies.

“What?” Carill muttered. “ _What_?”


	73. Coronation Day

They had to move fast. Westfall was already under siege by an invading demonic force and the fel taint was spreading at an alarming rate.

“Get my cloak,” Luciana snapped. She had spent the first hour trying not to be impatient with her attendants, but it had fallen flat when the next wave of reports had come in from SI:7. Kharanos was also under siege. Several Horde settlements in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms were being attacked on and off. Adventurers were already amassing in droves to fend off the demons and pick up whatever loot they could.

Luciana felt the familiar weight of her purple cloak settle on her shoulders. The dark bear fur lining the top smelled a bit musty, but there was no time to freshen it. An attendant pinned the cloak back away from her front while another hastily tied her boots, tucking the laces out of the way.

“They’re ready for you outside, Your Highness.”

Luciana inhaled, held it, and exhaled slowly. “Shawna, heel,” she said, and the dog obediently found her normal place at Luciana’s right foot, trotting along and keeping pace. “Kain?”

“Guards of the Princess, your positions!” Kain called, his voice bright and firm.

Luciana was swiftly surrounded by her guards, the remains of Amadeus squadron and the various people she’d picked up in the past little while. They moved with her through the Royal Wing of the castle. At the doors to the throne room, they stopped.

Luciana could hear the voice of the elected officiant through the doors. The Cathedral had sent them a priest on horseback the moment they’d been alerted to the impending coronation. It was rushed, and they were missing key guests, and there would be no feasts, and people would not be happy, but it was necessary. They could have the full celebrations later on.

Luciana heard her name, and nodded. The doors were opened for her and her guards and Royal Guards and SI:7 agents all streamed out from the Royal Wing, announcing her presence.

She marched to the base of the throne, keeping her shoulders back and her head high. She could feels so many eyes on her, and felt the beginnings of tension from where she held her fury. Anduin stood at the base of the throne already. He held the blood of Wrynn, and as such it was his privilege to be announced first. She took no issue with it. He’d been a Royal long before her.

As with her wedding, the words of the officiant passed by her unheeded. She knew the gist of what he was saying. She knew her cues. That was what mattered. If she missed something in her heightened state of awareness, her fury tensing her with readiness for battle, she’d go over it with Anduin. Words didn’t matter. Threat mattered. Anduin would hear the words. She had to make sure no one was attacking.

Attendants approached Anduin, and her eyes followed their movements warily. They gave him the scepter of his House, and a book of law. He accepted each from the purple cushions they were laid upon, the scepter in his left hand, the book in his right. He looked out upon the crowds, hastily gathered and patted down before being allowed entry into the castle.

“I hold the scepter of the House of Wrynn,” Anduin’s voice echoed through the chamber as the attendants retreated. “I carry the treatise of Stormwind. Mine is the ruling of the people. Mine is the hand of the law. As your King, I will lead you. As your King, I will ensure your safety and prosperity. From the first King of Stormwind, this scepter is passed to me. I will be the hand of law and order in your lands. I will be first of you, and the last of you.”

Attendants came up to her to offer her first an ancient sword and second a decorated shield. Her eyes tracked them as they crossed the throne room to kneel before her. The two rose to hand over the pieces of royal regalia. Luciana took the hilt of the sword with her right hand, and the shield was strapped to her left arm.

“I bear the sword of the House of Wrynn,” Luciana said, her voice booming throughout the throne room as she repeated the lines she’d been memorizing for August. “I carry the shield of Stormwind. Mine is the sword of justice. Mine is the shield of the people. As your Queen, I will protect you. As your Queen, I will give you strength. From the first King of Stormwind, the sword is passed to me. I will be the wielder of honour and justice for this kingdom. I will bow to none, and to all.”

The room fell silent as Varian rose from the throne to stand above them. Luciana and Anduin turned to look up to him, waiting. _Don’t be stubborn,_ Luciana thought, glaring a warning at Varian. _Don’t be an idiot. It’s too late for that now. This has to be done quickly, and you know it as well as I do._

“I am Varian, son of Llane, son of Amadant the Third, son of Landen. I am the King of Stormwind, whose line is traced to the founding of Stormwind. The line of Stormwind’s kings is carried through me,” Varian said, and his voice seemed to silence the entire castle. “I am its protector and its monarch. I rule from the throne of Stormwind. I carry the House of Wrynn.” His eyes were focused on Anduin now. “I begat its heir, to whom I now willing pass kingship of the Kingdom of Stormwind.” He looked to Luciana briefly. It was something everyone already knew, but it was necessary to say it all the same. “I approve of the consort of my heir, who will become Queen beside him.” 

Two attendants approached Varian now, one with empty hands, one with a crown. Luciana couldn’t guess when he’d had it made. The last Second Crown had been lost in the initial orcish invasions of Azeroth.

Varian ducked down to allow the empty-handed attendant to take the crown from his head. The attendant was a symbol, representing the entire populace of Stormwind and the power they held in taking the crown of the old king to give it to the new. One day, they would take it from Anduin and hopefully pass it to Alaric.

Varian straightened, and looked down upon his people. “I willingly give up the crown to the hands of my people,” he said, his voice softening. “I know that they will give it to the one they see fit to lead them.”

And with that, he unceremoniously turned to descend the stairs away from the throne. Willingly, he stepped away from the crown, the throne, the power, and made room for someone else to take the place.

Luciana’s eyes snapped to the attendant with the Second Crown. He flinched, his shoulders coming up defensively, his eyes narrowing in preparation, but approached anyway. She bowed and allowed him to place the crown on her head. When she stood, Anduin had the Crown of Stormwind on his.

They ascended to the throne in silence. Anduin did not take his seat there, instead turning to face the crowds with Luciana.

“His Royal Majesty, King of Stormwind, Lord Anduin of the House of Wrynn. Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Stormwind, Lady Luciana of the House of Wrynn. Kneel to your King and Queen!” the officiant cried. “Long live King Anduin! Long live Queen Luciana!”

The crowds of humans in the castle, as no others were allowed in the initial ceremony, knelt and cried in unison. “Long live King Anduin! Long live Queen Luciana!” Three times they said it, and then the officiant spoke again.

“Rise before the Light!” he said, calling upon the Holy Light. “Rise and let it bless your King and Queen! May their rule be long and prosperous.”

A trickle of Light started at the back of Luciana’s neck and she resisted the urge to squirm. Anduin glanced at her quickly, the edge of a smile at his lips. He knew exactly what she was trying not to do.

The Light flooded through Luciana, suddenly and violently filling her and rushing about within. She could not hear anything, and her eyes were open but she wasn’t registering anything she saw. She inhaled suddenly, scenting, but found nothing.

The Light left her just as suddenly, leaving her raw and empty for a few blessed moments. Then, Anduin raised his hand, the sceptre gripped tightly. “The Light blesses us all this day,” he said. His voice echoed in the room strangely. “It is with us, and we are within it always. Though we face grave danger, so long as we look to the Light, we will triumph together, with our allies and our friends. In the Light, we are one, and we stand together against the darkness. Those of us who walk within that eternal night shall look up and see a shining moon, and follow that Light, and they will walk with us. Many will fall, but we will see them again; for when we fall, we rejoin the Light, and it rejoices in us. The Light blesses us,” he said, and Luciana once again felt the trickle of magic at the back of her neck. This was a familiar one, a soft and cool touch that she welcomed, that smoothed the raw edges and eased her out of her heightened state.

The room was filled with light as the sun outside left the cover of clouds. It was unnatural as much as it was natural, and Anduin spoke again. “Garde vaelrath, jarad Lys. Styx yivenda, lael selutem en lairde yoris. Ducte, custid, corith.”

_Bless us, holy Light. Live within us, and give us fortitude and faith to withstand hardship. Guide us, keep us, give us hope. Spoken in the language of their ancestors, the Arathi._

Luciana could see tears in the eyes of some of the people crowded into the throne room. And why not? Anduin’s Light was gentle to them. It felt like a promise, hopeful and inspiring. A good Light for a King to call upon for his people.

“There are no feasts for us to share today,” Anduin continued as the sunlight faded, the clouds once again covering it. “Events have hurried us when we should have taken time to rejoice. We will host a proper celebration for you soon,” he promised with a smile. “One where our friends from all of Azeroth and beyond are welcome. But for now, spread word. The House of Wrynn will respond to the threat of the Legion with full force. All that Stormwind can muster will go to defend our lands, our people from the fel taint.” He looked at Luciana, and she felt the eyes of every single person in the throne room fall upon her. She was not nervous under such scrutiny. She was in charge now. She was where she belonged.

She looked out upon them. “We will lead Stormwind against the Legion,” she said. “The Stormwind Imperial Armed Forces will join with the rest of the Alliance to repel them from our lands. Alliance and Horde will both fight for freedom and safety, and Azeroth will triumph.” She tightened her hand around the hilt of the sword. “I am Oathkeeper, and I swear to you all that Stormwind will not fall to the Legion!”

“Hail Queen Luciana!” someone called from the crowds. They were joined by a cacophony of other voices, and Luciana counted down from ten before raising her hand, letting the shield fall loose against her forearm.

“Hail, Stormwind!” she said, and they took up the call. A moment later the front gates were thrown open and they streamed raucously out of the throne room.

It was left oddly empty and silent, and Luciana looked at Anduin. “We have work to do,” he said quietly. “I’ll go to the records office. You go to the Home Guard. I’ll appoint father and have him take care of the rest and I’ll meet you in the war room.”

“Westfall?” she asked.

“And Dun Morogh.”

She nodded sharply. As she descended the stairs from the throne, Lars came up beside her, Carill following behind.

“What’s going on?” Carill asked. “Been trying to find out all damn day.”

“The Legion is here.”

“The what now?”

Luciana did not respond.


End file.
